Breathe
by anolinde
Summary: When Keira Ford left her home at 18, she never looked back. Now a rookie at the SRU, she's done everything she can to bury her past. But when Team One gets a new recruit, she's forced to confront the reasons why she left... and the one she had to stay.
1. Three Truths and Plenty of Lies

**A/N:** Woo, first story in the Flashpoint fandom! I just want to apologize in advance for not being Canadian, which means that I might make mistakes as far as cultural/geographical things go. Canadians, please feel free to point out any errors!

This story takes place shortly after the pilot episode, which means no spoilers for the current season airing!

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Three Truths… and Plenty of Lies<strong>

"Tell me three truths and a lie."

"My name's Keira Ford, I have brown hair, I have green eyes, and I _love_ answering questions about myself."

Keira's boss, Sergeant Gregory Parker, smiled wryly at her. "You gave the exact same response on your entry psychological evaluation," he remarked, glancing down at her file.

"None of those things has changed," Keira replied tightly, already wishing they were done. So far, she had been here for approximately two minutes.

Greg leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers together, and looked benignly at her. "So, Keira, how has your first year at the SRU been?"

"Good."

From experience, Greg knew better than to expect elaboration from her. "Do you think you've been fitting in with the team?" he inquired.

Keira shrugged uneasily. The answer was _no_, but she didn't want to admit that. "Everyone's been nice," she said noncommittally.

"'Nice' isn't very descriptive," Parker gently admonished her.

"Well, it's true," Keira pointed out. Sort of true.

"All right," Parker said, straightening in his chair. "We're going to do a word association. I'm going to say a teammate's name, and you're going to give me the first word that comes to mind. You ready?"

When Keira nodded, he began. "Sam."

"Rookie," she replied. Sam Braddock, fresh off a tour with the Joint Task Force 2, had just joined the team a few weeks ago. With the exception of Keira, who wasn't too far from a rookie herself, most of the team had yet to address him by his actual name.

"Wordy," Parker continued.

"Father."

"Spike."

"Babycakes." There were other things she could have said about Spike… things which made her very glad she wasn't taking a polygraph test.

"Lou."

"Spike."

"Jules."

"Awesome."

"Ed."

"Bald," she said without thinking.

Parker stifled a grin. "Greg," he finished.

"Boss."

"How've you been sleeping?"

"Fine," Keira replied. "Fine" and "good" were generally her go-to responses for prying questions about her wellbeing, especially when things were neither fine nor good.

"No nightmares? Flashbacks?" Greg prodded, looking at her expectantly.

Not so much nightmares, but flashbacks—flashbacks to her life before the SRU. "Nothing," she lied.

"Sure about that?" Greg asked.

"There've been some bad calls," Keira allowed, "but nothing traumatic."

"That's good," Parker said, smiling. "I'm glad to hear it. Which cases do you like the least?"

She hadn't expected that question. "Come again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I mean," the sergeant explained, "is there any particular kind of call that you don't like taking? For instance, drug busts, suicides, robberies, domestic violence…?"

There was no way in hell Keira was answering that one truthfully. "I guess I have a hard time with the drug busts," she said. "I've never even smoked a cigarette, so I can't really connect to any of the people involved. And I usually wind up having to ask someone about all the slang."

Well, that part wasn't a lie—but drug busts were far from her least favorite type of call. In fact, though Lou had once outright laughed at her for not recognizing an apparently well-known term for cocaine, she actually preferred those jobs to some of the others. Way less thinking involved.

"Understandable," Greg said, smiling. "I don't even know half of the terms the kids use these days." When Keira didn't comment, he continued, "So, as you've probably figured out by now, this can be a stressful job. How do you cope with that?"

"I guess I talk to my brother about it," Keira said reluctantly. The evaluation was getting way too personal for her tastes, and it was only going to go downhill from here.

"If I remember correctly, Jason's a sergeant in the 54th Division, right?"

Keira nodded, unable to repress a proud smile. Her brother had been a police officer for almost a decade, and the recent promotion was something he'd been hoping to get for awhile. He absolutely deserved his new rank, along with every penny of the pay raise.

"So, you just talk to him?"

"I guess," Keira muttered. It wasn't like she had a lot of friends in the area; it wasn't like she had a lot of friends, period.

"No other confidantes?" Greg pressed. "There's no one else—outside of the team, that is—you talk to?"

"Not really, no," Keira answered, growing more annoyed by the second.

"Are you in a relationship?"

The question, coming from seemingly nowhere and having no apparent relevance to her job, made her entire body tense. "No offense, boss, but it's really none of your business," she all but growled, despite her best attempts to sound polite.

"Yes, you've told me something to that effect before," Greg remarked, his uncannily sharp eyes examining hers. "The reason we do these evaluations, though, isn't because I'm trying to pry into your personal life. It's because the more I know about everyone's state of mind, the better our team functions. A simple yes or no will suffice."

Keira sighed, then grimaced when she noticed him jot something down in his notes. "No, I'm not in a relationship," she ground out.

At least, she wasn't in anything the forty-something, perennially out-of-touch Gregory Parker would define as a relationship. She hadn't been in one of those since…

She pushed back the memories and ordered herself to focus.

"Relationships seem to be an issue for you," Greg observed. "Other members of the team have told me that you're a hard person to get to know."

"Is that a polite way of calling me a bitch?" Keira asked, feigning a cavalier, I-don't-care-what-people-think-of-me type attitude. In reality, though, hearing that kind of criticism from her teammates—because that's what it was, no matter how subtle—made her feel like she was still in high school, like she was still an outsider only being tolerated because someone in the group had vouched for her.

"No, no one's calling you that," Greg said mildly. "But we've all noticed that you tend to shut people out."

It wasn't a statement; it was a question mark, an invitation to elaborate.

"Awesome," was her brusque response. "Can we move onto the next section now?"


	2. Forced Down Memory Lane

**A/N: **This is a revised version of the original Chapter 2, which had been a bit repetitive (it was originally supposed to be the first chapter, so there were some remnants of expository information that had already been provided in Chapter 1). Sorry for any confusion!

On another note, I wrote this chapter before the airing of the Season 3 finale, "Fault Lines," in which it's revealed that each team chooses its new officers together. As a result, I had to fudge a bit when it came to certain aspects of this chapter.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Forced Down Memory Lane<strong>

"Twenty miles. Wow. Your psych eval went that bad, huh?"

"Do exercise bikes even let you go that far?" Wordy asked, peering over at the machine to make sure that Spike had read the right number.

Keira chose to ignore Spike's inquiry. "Jealous?" she instead asked Wordy, raising an eyebrow. Being the youngest member of Team One had once intimidated her against making such comebacks—even particularly terrible ones like this—to an older officer like Wordy, but a year on the job had given her some measure of confidence.

Note the emphasis on some. She was still secretly terrified of Ed Lane.

"Always trying to upstage me," Wordy said with a sigh.

"Always trying to upstage everyone," Spike corrected, winking at Keira.

Keira rolled her eyes, then bent her head and concentrated on making it thirty miles. The more her legs hurt, the less she had to think about how disastrous her session with Greg had been.

"So, Wordy, how'd the circus go yesterday?" Spike asked, ambling through the exercise room until he found his favorite set of weights.

"The girls loved it," Wordy reported, stationing himself in front of a punching bag. "Me? Not so much."

"How much longer is it going to be there?" Keira questioned, panting a little as she spoke. "Brian's been 'hinting'"—read: her nephew had been dressing up as a clown every day and begging her brother to take him—"that he wants to go."

"You should have said something earlier," Wordy told her, frowning. "We could have all gone together."

Before Keira could answer, Spike butted in: "Ah, but you're forgetting—'I'd like to keep my personal life separate from my job, thank you very much.'"

"Oh, come on, that's not fair," Keira retorted, flushing as something she had once yelled at Greg in a particularly heated conversation—which he had alluded to during the evaluation—was quoted right back at her. "Wordy, it wouldn't have worked anyway: Jason hasn't had a day off in awhile, and I thought it'd be more fun for Brian if we waited until his dad could go."

"Well, Jason better play hooky soon, because the circus leaves next week," Wordy warned her.

"See, I would volunteer to help babysit," Spike said, "because I fucking _love_ circuses"—Keira giggled, unable to restrain herself—"but that would be violating the whole 'keeping my personal life separate—'"

"What is it, pick on Keira day?" Jules Callaghan interrupted him, bounding energetically into the exercise room. "Give the girl a break, I'm pretty sure you've given her enough recaps of that incident to last her a lifetime."

_Thank you,_ Keira mouthed gratefully to her friend and semi-confidante. Out loud, she said merely, "Looks like someone's in a good mood today."

"Woke up on the right side of the bed," Jules declared, grinning. "I'm thinking it's gonna be a good one."

_Probably more like woke up with the right _person_ in your bed,_ Keira thought with a smirk. It was kind of cute how Jules thought that her budding relationship with Sam Braddock was a secret. Not that she would ever say anything, though—after all, she hated it when their teammates tried to inquire about her personal life.

The Sam Braddock in question joined them a carefully calculated five minutes later, followed almost immediately by Ed and Lou Young. Sam and Lou gave Keira friendly enough greetings, but Ed just gave her the usual head nod—the one that always made her feel like she still had a long way to go as far as earning his approval went.

Ed's arrival effectively boxed Keira out of the conversation. The older officer could always be counted on to start a round of bantering amongst the guys, and she never felt comfortable participating. Jules had no such compunctions, of course, and had long ago practically forced the team to accept her as "one of the guys"; even Sam, the rookie, was more than capable of holding his own. The two of them had transcended the boundary that Keira had never been able to breach, which in truth she didn't want to breach.

The problem with banter and small talk was that, inevitably, they led to questions. She had noticed with Jules, too, that the male SRU officers were particularly nosy—whether because they were interested in her, like Sam, or because they had major big brother tendencies. Keira knew that her refusal to play the little sister role, even occasionally, was part of the reason why she was still struggling to fit in on the team. The questions had stopped long ago, but it had cost her a certain measure of camaraderie and friendship.

"Hey, guys, I've got a newsflash for you."

The bearer of said newsflash turned out to be Winnie, one of the dispatchers employed by the SRU. Keira, whose bike was facing away from the gym entrance, craned her neck to see better.

"Yeah? What's up?" Ed asked curiously, looking up from where he was preparing to bench press twice Keira's weight.

"You know how Greg's been interviewing the final candidates for a new team member?" Winnie replied, her dark curls shining as they caught the morning sunlight. "Well, he's finally picked someone."

Glances containing varying levels of concern were exchanged amongst the officers. New additions to the team risked offsetting the group dynamic, the balance of which was crucial in order for them all to do their jobs effectively. Keira was painfully reminded of her failure to find a niche, and of her strained interactions with Greg and Ed. She hadn't even been included in the hiring process—and she understood why, because she hadn't been on the team long enough to pull much weight (Sam hadn't been involved, either), but it was another subtle thing that separated her from the others.

"Well? Who is it?" Ed prompted Winnie, when the dispatcher didn't elaborate.

"I didn't catch his name," Winnie admitted. "Greg's talking to him right now. He's going to introduce him to you all soon, though, so play nice."

Under cover of the others' laughter, Winnie glanced at Keira and murmured, "He's a cute one, too."

Keira rolled her eyes, albeit not unkindly—it wasn't the first time Winnie had hinted at wanting to set her up with someone. Since she was living with Jason and his wife, however, and had no intention of abandoning little Brian anytime soon, she had zero interest in dating. Her current friends with benefits situation suited her just fine; there was no reason to complicate things with romance.

"Well, as long as he can pull his weight, we'll go easy on the pranks," Spike said.

"Are you kidding me?" Ed asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, absolutely," Spike swore gleefully. "I've still got some itching powder from that one time Wordy…"

"Looks like we're going to be even more outnumbered than we already are," Jules told Keira, pretending to heave a melodramatic sigh as Spike and Lou began conspiring. "I guess we're just going to have to keep putting the guys in their places by ourselves."

"Fine by me," Keira replied cheerfully, though only somewhat truthfully. Again, Ed Lane still scared the shit out of her.

"So, what are your plans for the evening?" Jules inquired, hopping onto the bike next to Keira.

"I've got a hot date with _The Lion King_," Keira replied, smirking. "Brian's on a Disney kick."

"Lucky you," Jules said wryly. "Better that than Hannah Montana, though, right?"

"Yeah, poor Wordy. Then again, as far as I know Wordy's never had to marathon Power Rangers."

"Oh, God, I remember that show," Jules reminisced. "The pink Ranger was always my favorite."

"Hell yeah," Keira agreed, grinning. "I had a huge crush on the white one."

"Speaking of crushes, how's the love life?"

Had anyone other than Jules posed the question, Keira would have brushed them off (with varying degrees of politeness, depending on who it was). "Brian's pretty much the only guy in my life right now, as usual," she instead responded.

"Maybe you should start reaching a little older—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, listen up!" Greg Parker's voice boomed through the exercise room, abruptly cutting off all conversation. Keira wasn't at all sorry to discontinue hers: she may have been more open with Jules than the rest of the team, by sole virtue of them sharing a locker room together, but that didn't mean she enjoyed being on the proverbial hot seat.

As Keira began slowing down on the bike, regretting the fact that she wouldn't get to thirty miles today, Greg announced, "I'd like you all to meet our newest teammate, Will. Will just finished serving as an officer in Vancouver; he was recommended to join the SRU and transferred to Toronto. Will, this is Ed Lane, our team leader."

Keira tried to look over her shoulder as she finished the last few seconds of her cool-down, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new guy, but from her vantage point she could only see Greg's shoulder.

"Then we have Wordy, our entry and close quarters combat expert; Spike, our technology expert—"

"—Demolitions and tactical tech expert," Spike cut in.

"—Lou, less-lethal weapons operator," Greg continued, audibly grinning at Spike's interruption; "Sam and Jules, our fearless snipers; and over there on the bike is Keira, our second less-lethal weapons operator and our resident martial arts expert."

Finally able to get off the bike without having to worry about her muscles cramping up from a sudden stop, Keira hopped off and turned around. Her smile was warm, if somewhat reserved: she wanted to start on the right foot with this guy, because doing so would mean feeling less like an outsider and more like part of the team.

That, however, was before she saw him—and a face she hadn't seen since college.

Out of all the surely hundreds, if not thousands, of Wills in Canada, the SRU had just gone and hired Will McKnight. As in, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Will McKnight; as in, her neighbor from Cloverdale, who had no business whatsoever being in Ontario, let alone Toronto; as in, the first guy she had ever loved. The only guy she had ever loved.

"Oh my God," was the only thing she could think of saying, her eyes locked onto his. It was the understatement of the century, a feeble reaction as the shell fragments of her carefully constructed world started crumbling down all around her.

"_Keira_?" Will asked, equally stupefied. Oh God, he hadn't changed at all. He was maybe a little taller, definitely more muscular, but other than that there was no mistaking him.

"You two know each other?" Greg inquired, his brow knitting as he glanced back and forth between the two of them.

Keira was the first to recover, her brain kicking back into defense mode and reverting to its old strategies: lie, lie, lie. Hide everything else. "We, uh… we used to go to high school together," she replied, her cheeks flaming under the curious gazes of her teammates.

She hadn't thought it was possible for Will's jaw to drop any further, but apparently she was wrong.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Greg wanted to know, narrowing his eyes.

"No, sir," Keira immediately replied, wishing that Will would stop looking like he had been punched in the stomach. Her teammates' stares were already starting to unnerve her, their scrutiny registering as an unpleasant prickling along the back of her neck.

"Will?" Greg inquired, when the newest team member remained silent.

"Uh… Yeah, sure, no problem," Will responded, blinking in bewilderment. Keira inwardly groaned: Will had always sucked at lying, because he'd never had anything to hide. Obviously, he hadn't gotten any better at it.

"Well, since that's settled, I think it's time to see what you've got," Ed declared, giving Will a thorough once-over. Will, to his credit, didn't move a muscle—in fact, he hardly seemed to notice Ed's examination. His eyes were still glued to Keira's, searching for any hint of an explanation.

"You guys have fun with that," Keira said, knowing that most of the team would opt to watch Will's first practice and see for themselves how he measured up. "I've still got ten miles to go on the bike."

"You sure?" Sam asked, a wicked grin on his face as he looked at Will. "I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to being on the other side of the glass."

"Seen one rookie, you've seen them all," Keira replied in what she hoped was a nonchalant voice, choosing to ignore the fact that she wasn't that far from a rookie herself. Will simply stared at her.

"All right, well, stick around at the end of the day," Greg told her. His tone was amiable enough, but the look he gave her said that this particular storm had far from blown over.

She nodded. "Understood." Without a backwards glance at Will, she turned around and headed back to her bike. Her heart was racing; it didn't slow down even when she heard the others leave the room.

"Damn it," she muttered to herself, wiping her clammy palms on her shorts. Will's reappearance in her life had shaken her to the very core, threatening to ruin everything she had fought for during the past decade. He was a connection to the hometown she never wanted to see again, to the family she had run away from. He knew too much about her, even if he didn't know the whole story, and the mere possibility of what he might tell the others was terrifying.

She hadn't worked this hard to erase her past, only to have all her work undone in a moment.

One thing was certain: she was going to have to have a talk with her ex-boyfriend.


	3. Questions

**A/N: **Can I just say how much I hate the annoying "Share this on Twitter, etc." icons that are now showing up on every chapter? They keep making the chapter titles off-center. /shallow

Anyway, thank you all for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter. =)

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Questions<strong>

Starting with a brief stint as a cashier at the age of fourteen, Will McKnight had held several jobs throughout his life. Without exception, they always had one thing in common: on the first day, you busted your ass to make a good impression. Whatever you were asked to do, you gave roughly two hundred percent and did it with a smile. This would continue until you were accepted by your coworkers, at which point you could relax a little and slowly taper off to a hundred percent.

The problem with this strategy, as Will was quickly finding out, was that it didn't take into account your ex-best friend (who was also your ex-girlfriend) being one of your new coworkers. Worse, it didn't take into account what happened if said ex-girlfriend was Keira Ford.

"So, what's up with you and Keira?" asked the other woman on the team, whose name was either Jules or Julia—Will couldn't remember which. She smiled at him as he began to put on his gear, a far friendlier reception than what he had gotten from Keira. The two of them were alone in the armory, Jules or Julia having opted to stay with him while the others went ahead and set up the training course.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. He had tortured himself for years by imagining scenarios in which they were reunited, whether by bumping into each other in the grocery store or seeing each other in their old neighborhood, and in which Keira would explain that she had been abducted by aliens. Or something. Anything to make sense of what had happened. Eventually, however, he had forced himself to accept the fact that he was probably never going to see her again. He thought he had moved on. Judging by his reaction to her today, he obviously hadn't. Unfortunately, he knew exactly as much after their encounter as he had for the past decade: nothing.

"Has she… Has she ever mentioned me?" he inquired.

Just as he suspected, Jules or Julia shook her head. "She doesn't like talking about her personal life."

Will smiled faintly: it was nice to know that some things hadn't changed. Despite being her neighbor and best friend since preschool, Will could count on one hand the number of times he had been inside Keira's house; and she had only told him her middle name, Jane, after hours of wheedling on his part. She was an intensely private person, someone who would freeze you out if you asked too many of the wrong questions. But she was also kindhearted, tough as nails, and beautiful—and the latter was something else that hadn't changed.

"So, you two went to high school together?" Jules or Julia prompted, the confusion evident in her features.

"Yeah, we did," Will confirmed, reaching for a pair of gloves. Hoping to switch the topic, he asked, "How's the shooting course?"

Ed, the team leader, had decided to test him on his accuracy first; a decision that relieved Will, because handling a gun came as naturally to him as breathing. Even though seeing Keira again after all these years had thrown him off considerably, he knew he would do all right today—but, if he wanted the others to take him seriously, he had to excel.

"You're going to be doing the hardest one," Jules or Julia informed him—"but as long as you concentrate, it's not bad. Watch out for the civilian targets."

Will barely had time to thank her for the advice before Ed stepped into the room. "You ready?" the older officer asked. Will had seen his fair share of intimidating cops, but after just a few minutes' acquaintance he was pretty sure that Ed was up there with the best of them. Easily top five.

Ed was not a man whom you wanted to keep waiting.

"Ready," Will confirmed, throwing in a "sir" for good measure.

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><p>"Your homeboy was good," Spike told Keira upon his return to the exercise room an hour later. "Are you seriously still on that bike?"<p>

"He's not my homeboy," Keira muttered.

"We tried him out on the shooting range," Spike reported. "He wasn't as fast as Sam, but his accuracy was perfect. Greg and Ed are happy."

"That's good," Keira replied, injecting some fake cheer into her voice. Will and his father had always gone hunting together back when they were growing up; when hunting season was over, they would practice at the local range. She wasn't surprised to learn that this experience had benefited him today.

Spike eyed her for a moment, then walked over and planted himself in front of Keira's bike. "All right, spill," he ordered, leaning over the machine so that she couldn't see what mile she was on. "What's up with you and the new guy?"

Keira sighed. "Spike, remember that whole 'keeping my personal life separate from my job' thing you always tease me about? I wasn't kidding."

"Oh, come on," Spike scoffed. "He's part of the team now, and you know Greg and Ed are going to interrogate both of you on whether or not this'll affect your performances. You're going to have to talk sometime."

"There's nothing to talk about," Keira insisted. "I just knew him in high school, that's all. It's not really a big deal."

"I don't buy it," Spike said immediately. "You're good, but you're not that good. Let me guess… You were either mortal enemies, or you dated. I'm guessing you dated."

"Spike," Keira pleaded.

Spike saw the expression on her face and relented, but the unanswered questions still lingered in his gaze. Hoping to distract him—not to mention herself—Keira quickly asked, "What are you doing tonight?"

The ploy worked. "Ordering Chinese," Spike replied. "Want to come over?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," Keira said in relief. At least for a little while, she'd have something to take her mind off of Will. "Usual time?"

"Sounds like a plan," Spike confirmed. "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook about your ex," he warned, heading over to the weights.

"Spike!" Keira hissed.

"I'm just saying!"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Will, can I talk to you for a second?"<p>

Will turned around and, upon seeing Greg, nodded. "Of course," he replied, having a sinking feeling that he was going to be interrogated about Keira—whom he hadn't seen since their disastrous encounter in the exercise room.

Greg brought him back to the conference room, where he had originally been interviewed and later briefed about his new duties, and invited him to take a seat. Will obliged, selecting one with a view out the window.

For a few moments, they made small talk about the day; then, Greg got down to business.

"So," the sergeant began, looking contemplatively at Will, "you and Keira used to go to high school together?"

Will confirmed that this was so.

"Why the unpleasant reunion?"

"It's been awhile," Will hedged, unsure of how much he should tell Greg. He was willing to bet that Keira wouldn't volunteer any information, but he wasn't about to lie to his new boss. Besides, even he didn't know the full story. "We didn't exactly part on good terms."

"And why's that?"

Sighing, Will realized that he might as well start at the beginning—because he still couldn't make sense of the ending. "We grew up in the same neighborhood," he admitted. "Her dad died a few months after she was born, and her mom eventually remarried," he continued, "so she spent a lot of time over at my house—didn't like the new husband. She practically lived with us."

He couldn't blame her, either; from what he remembered of her stepfather, the guy was a jackass.

"Of course, the problem with having a girl as your best friend is that, well, you lose points with the guys and it's hard to get a girlfriend," he added with a wry smile. Greg chuckled in understanding. "Most of the time, people just assumed we were a couple."

He paused, reluctant to go on. Even though it had been a decade, even though he had no idea why she had done what she had done; even though he sometimes hated her for it, even though he had wondered and questioned and second-guessed himself for years; a significant part of him still cared for Keira, or at least for what they had once had. She was the standard to which he had measured every one of his subsequent girlfriends, most of the time without realizing it, and thus the reason why he had never been able to keep any of them around for very long—and she was the only person, even to this day, who knew him better than he knew himself.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that, at some point, the two of you started dating," Greg ventured quietly. There was no hint of accusation in his voice; he merely waited for Will to gather his bearings.

"Yeah," Will finally confessed, staring out the window and seeing absolutely nothing. "It took me until senior year of high school to figure out that I was in love with her, and then it took me almost the whole summer to ask her out."

He vividly remembered that morning, and how sweaty his palms had been as he paced his room and rehearsed exactly what he was going to say. He remembered thinking he was going to vomit when she arrived at his house for what she thought was going to be a cheesy eighties movie marathon. And he remembered, still with a rush of adrenaline, how the eighties movies had played unnoticed in the background as they made out for the first time on his couch.

"I know it sounds stupid," he told Greg, "but that first semester of college was the best four months of my life. And I thought she felt the same way, but I guess I was wrong."

"She, uh, 'dumped' you?" Greg inquired, frowning.

"Honestly, I wish she had," Will replied bitterly. "One day, everything was fine—we went out to dinner and saw a movie, and then I had some studying to do and she went with some friends to a party. The next afternoon, I woke up and found a note on my desk in her handwriting saying, 'I'm sorry.' Her roommate said she hadn't seen her all day. Her friends had gotten completely trashed at the party and couldn't remember a thing. She didn't show up in our class together on Monday, either. Later, her roommate told me that, while she was out of the room, Keira had moved all of her stuff out and left a note saying that she wasn't coming back."

"She dropped out of college?" Greg asked, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment.

Will nodded. "I called her mom, but apparently Keira brought everything with her to college and hadn't contacted the house since. Her mom thought she might be living with her brother, who's eight years older than us and had his own place, but she didn't have his number."

"Both Keira and her brother severed all contact with their mother and stepfather?"

"I guess," Will replied. It was one of the many things he didn't understand about the whole situation: the only time Keira had ever complained about her mom, it was inevitably because she had sided with her husband in an argument. Beyond that, however, he had never noticed any resentment between the two of them.

"Were you able to get in touch with Jason?"

Will started, then realized that of course Greg would know who Keira's brother was. "My dad had written a recommendation letter for him when he applied to a police academy, and he still had the number. But when Jason finally picked up, he told me that he hadn't seen Keira since the summer. I could tell he was lying: he's really protective of her, and there's no way he wouldn't have been freaking out if he didn't know where she was. The next time I called, the number had been disconnected."

"And you didn't hear a word from her until today?"

"Not a word," Will answered. "This was the last place I expected to find her."

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

Even though he should have seen it coming, Greg's inquiry caught him completely off guard. "S-Sir?" he stammered, coloring.

"I need to know, Will," Greg told him somberly. "Before we take a call, before someone's safety gets put on the line—I need to know if you still have feelings for her."

Will sighed, trying to come up with an answer. He had just about every feeling in the book when it came to Keira: sadness, frustration, confusion, helplessness, and hopelessness, to name a few. Yet beneath the old wounds, beneath the anger that he wore like armor, the old memories had dug in and refused to leave. There, other feelings still lingered.

But was love one of them, or had it been driven out long ago when yet another year passed without a call?

"I don't know," he admitted, looking Greg in the eye as he made the confession that, he realized, could get him fired or put on probation less than a day into the job. "We were friends for so long, I don't think I could ever stop caring about her. But, honestly… at this point, I just want answers."

Greg examined him for an uncomfortable moment, his eyes seeming to pierce right through every single word Will had spoken. "Look, Will," the sergeant finally said, "there's a reason why you were selected—out of more than a hundred candidates—to join Team One. You passed all our tests with flying colors and, on top of that, you've got a good head on your shoulders. You did great today, and I'm impressed by the honesty you just showed me."

Unsure of how to respond, and having no idea where Greg was going, Will remained silent.

"I want this to work out," Greg told him. "I'm going to talk it over with Ed, but I see no reason why you can't stay on the team—as long as you can keep things professional between you and Keira. What happened today was completely out of your control: you had no way of knowing that she would be here. But what happens after today, that _is_ in your control. Do you understand me?"

"I do, sir," Will replied. And he meant it: he'd wanted this job for a long time, and he wasn't about to jeopardize the opportunity he'd been given. He knew better than to think it was going to be easy, having Keira in his life again, but he was going to make sure that he didn't screw things up. "It's going to be weird," he allowed, "but I promise, I won't let it get in the way of the job."

"Good." Greg clapped him on the shoulder. "That's what I like to hear."


	4. Home Sweet Home

**A/N:** Canadians, I apologize in advance if I've completely failed at Toronto-area geography. Wikipedia is only so reliable. =(

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Home Sweet Home<strong>

"Congratulations," was the first thing Greg said to Keira when she walked into the briefing room at the end of the day, having been summoned for a "talk."

"On what?" Keira asked, trying to hide her irritation. She wasn't looking forward to this conversation. Her psychological evaluation had been bad enough; going through such an ordeal twice in one day was going to be hell. She glanced mournfully at the empty seats, wishing that she had Jules or Spike with her to act as a buffer.

"You've outdone yourself," Greg remarked, smiling. "I've seen you go to some lengths to maintain privacy, but you've never avoided anyone better than you did Will today."

"I had other things to do than watch a rookie train," Keira answered, in what hopefully wasn't too rude a tone.

"It's called 'team bonding,'" Greg told her, "and, as much as you try to distance yourself from the rest of us, you're part of this team. You watched Sam on his first day, didn't you?"

When Keira didn't respond, Greg gestured towards the conference table. "Sit," he invited her.

Keira grudgingly lowered herself into a chair. Outside the enormous windows, Toronto was just getting started on rush hour. She should have been in her car right now, cursing at the traffic and trying to figure out how she was going to explain her current predicament to her brother.

"According to Will, the two of you had quite the serious relationship," Greg remarked, eying her carefully.

_Will McKnight, I'm going to fucking kill you._

"It wasn't a 'serious relationship,'" Keira immediately countered. "We dated for a semester. In freshman year of college. And then I broke up with him." And she had spent the last decade trying to forget why.

Greg watched her for a moment, then said, "You're not going to tell me why you suddenly dropped out of college and moved halfway across the country, are you."

_Fucking hell—Will told him that, too?_

"I didn't drop out," Keira replied carefully. "I took a year off until I was sure I knew what I wanted to study, and then I transferred to another school. It's all in my file."

"That's not the way Will described it," Greg pointed out shrewdly. "He says you packed up your things and left without a word to anyone, except for a note you left him saying 'I'm sorry.'"

Keira wasn't going to think about that. "I'll admit," she said instead, "it was a shitty way to break up with someone. He deserved better. But I've never really been into the whole goodbye thing, and there wasn't much to talk about anyway. The relationship just wasn't working out." She shrugged, as if to say it was water under the bridge, as if it were a minor regret rather than something she still loathed herself for doing. "With all due respect, boss, are you going anywhere with this?"

Greg gazed at her for a moment, his eyes searching for any trace of a lie. _You're not going to find one,_ she silently promised. Thanks to her stepfather, she was better at lying than anyone had a right to be.

"The question I'm getting at," Greg finally told her, "is this:will your ability to do your job be affected by Will's presence?"

"No."

"Keira, I'm serious."

"So am I," Keira said, narrowing her eyes. "Look, I'm not going to lie: I'm not thrilled about having him on the team. But that doesn't mean I can't be professional. Everyone here's got a skeleton or two in their closet, right? And yet, you all manage to function."

"Point taken," Greg replied quietly; she had a feeling that her words had hit rather close to home. "All right, then," the sergeant said, clearing his throat; 'that's all I had to say. See you tomorrow?"

"Bright and early," Keira promised, already halfway out the door.

* * *

><p>Somehow, she wasn't surprised to find Will waiting for her in the parking lot.<p>

"Hey," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Keira winced when she saw what he was wearing: jeans and a button-down shirt, the latter of which brought out his eyes. He looked good—really good, as if the years since college hadn't touched him at all.

God, she'd missed him. She'd missed his smile and his laidback personality and the way his arms felt around her; she'd missed dinners at the McKnight house and that ratty old couch in his bedroom and even their spot in the library at UBC. Leaving him was the hardest thing she had ever done—she couldn't even begin to count the number of times she had reached for the phone, ready to explain everything and apologize and beg for his forgiveness, only to pull back and cry herself to sleep that night.

This was one of those times. She knew what she had to, what she had spent the whole afternoon planning for. She couldn't pick up the pieces with Will, no more than she could change what had happened to her in college. Their relationship was over, and if she had the strength to she'd end their friendship as well. He deserved much better than her.

"We need to talk," she told him, bracing herself.

Will started to speak, but Keira cut him off. "I know you want answers," she said, "but I can't give them to you. I left college for a reason, and it wasn't to hurt you. Beyond that, I don't want to talk about it."

She marveled at how steady her voice could be, even when she was on the verge of tears.

"Keira—"

"One more thing," Keira interrupted, clutching her car keys so tightly that they dug into her fingers. "I keep my personal life separate from my job. The guys here don't know a lot about my life before I came to the SRU, and I intend to keep it that way. I'm asking you to respect that."

For a long, uncomfortable moment, the expression on Will's face was completely unreadable. He simply stared at her, utterly taken aback; and then his features hardened with anger, and he demanded, "Is that all you have to say?"

Keira nodded, trying to ignore the lump in her throat.

"You've got to be kidding me," Will growled, folding his arms across his chest. "Fifteen years of friendship, and you just walk out without even saying goodbye, never mind giving an explanation? And now, ten years later, you expect me to just be okay with not knowing what the hell happened to you? Jesus fucking Christ, Keira, there were times when I thought you were dead. But you've been here all along, and you never even tried to get in touch with me!"

"I couldn't," Keira whispered, the response sounding weak even to herself.

"Why not?" Will practically yelled, his voice bursting with frustration. "We loved each other, didn't we? Or was that something else you lied about?"

And, just like that, Keira had her way out.

Knowing that Will would never forgive her, and knowing that she would never forgive herself, she summoned her last reserves of courage and said bluntly, "Our relationship was a mistake."

Will blinked, his mouth opening. "What?"

"Our relationship was a mistake," Keira repeated, loathing herself with every word she spoke. "I went along with it because I didn't want to ruin our friendship, but obviously I shouldn't have let things go so far. I'm sorry, but I didn't feel the same way about you as you did about me. That's why…" She took a deep breath, ready to tap the final nail into the coffin. "That's why I never wanted to have sex with you."

No, no it fucking wasn't why; but, judging by the thunderstruck expression on Will's face, she had just exposed a chink in his armor. Part of it was true, after all. She had never slept with him, had never even taken her shirt off in front of him, and she had always claimed that she wasn't ready. He hadn't pressured her in the slightest, wouldn't dream of it—but she knew he had been hurt by her refusals, even if he tried not to show it. How could he not be, after all the guys she had fooled around with in high school?

"So that's it, then," Will said, with equal parts fury and helplessness.

Swallowing, Keira replied, "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

She began to walk towards her car, her hesitant strides gaining speed as the seconds lengthened and Will didn't try to stop her. Angrily brushing aside a stray tear that had formed in the corner of her eye, she fumbled with her keys and had to try three times before she was able to open the door. When she finally got in the car, she turned on the engine and slammed down on the gas pedal; she heard her tires squeal in protest as she sped out of the parking lot.

In the rearview mirror she caught one last glimpse of Will, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast, before she merged into traffic and left the unit behind.

* * *

><p>Jason Ford's first task as a police officer had been to get down on one knee and propose to his longtime girlfriend, Allie Stevenson. Allie had grown up in Leslieville, a working class neighborhood in Toronto, and had no intention of leaving. With some help from her parents, the couple had finally saved up enough money to buy a small house on a quiet street. Emphasis on the quiet, because little Brian Ford was three, going on four, and they didn't want him getting into too much trouble.<p>

Keira had been living with them since Brian was born, officially to help out with the baby but unofficially because Jason had found out that she was too broke to afford her own place. Yet another thing to add onto the very, very long list of reasons why she was completely indebted to her older brother—most of which had little to do with money.

By the time she parked in front of the house, she was a wreck. The whole ride home, her mind had refused to concentrate on anything besides Will; and not only on the disaster that today had turned out to be, but also on her last weekend at college. The memories were still as fresh and horrible as ever, and they were also a gateway back to some equally shitty recollections of her childhood.

As she let herself in through the front door, she smelled chicken pot pie and hot dogs—the latter for Brian, who was currently refusing to eat anything else. If necessary, he could be forced into eating healthier food; but, since that often resulted in a temporary loss of hearing for whoever made the attempt, Jason and Allie had decided to wait out the phase.

Stepping over a rather intimidating collection of toy trucks, Keira made her way into the kitchen, where Jason was checking the oven timer and Allie was doing a crossword. Brian was nowhere in sight, but more likely than not he was running around upstairs in a clown costume. "Hey," she said quietly, announcing her presence.

"Hey, yourself," Jason replied cheerfully, glancing up from the stove. Standing just above six feet tall, with dark features and broad shoulders, he was an intimidating sight—but, upon closer inspection, his brown eyes were friendly and his smile wide. His expression, however, soon turned into one of worry when he saw her. "Bad day at work?" he asked, frowning.

Detecting the concern in her husband's voice, Allie Ford looked up and scrutinized Keira. In terms of appearance, Allie was practically Jason's opposite: a petite figure with long, flowing blonde hair (which Keira had always envied) and sparkling blue eyes. "What's wrong?" she inquired softly.

Keira took a deep, shaking breath and told her brother and his wife, "Will McKnight just joined the SRU."

And then, as much to her surprise as theirs, she burst into tears.


	5. Ribbed For Her Pleasure

**A/N:** FYI, there are some sexual passages in this chapter. Since they're non-graphic, I wasn't sure if I needed to bump this story up to an "M" rating or if it could stay at "T." I've left it at "T" for now, but if you find yourself thinking otherwise as you read this chapter, please let me know!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Ribbed For Her Pleasure<strong>

In another life, perhaps, Keira might have wanted to marry Michelangelo Scarlatti.

Spike, as most of his friends called him, was an easygoing Italian whose current love interest was an anti-explosives robot he had affectionately nicknamed "Babycakes." Possessing an almost preternatural knowledge of nearly every piece of technology that the Special Response Unit might expect to use or encounter on the job, he devoted hours of his free time to the perusal of technology-related websites—and cooking blogs. He really liked cooking blogs.

What drew Keira to him most, however, wasn't the fact that he frequently hacked into her computer and changed her desktop to a goofy picture of himself. Spike was the first of "the guys" in the SRU to reach out to her, to invite her along when the team went out for drinks at the end of the day. And, unlike the others, he wasn't put off by the fact that she didn't talk about herself. He may have teased her about it mercilessly, yet he also found other ways to befriend her.

Not only was he charming, funny, and insanely good at Ed impressions, but there was no denying the fact that he was handsome. With light brown hair, dark eyes, and some serious muscles that were too often hidden behind his button-down shirts, he was definitely attractive. Keira and Jules privately had him ranked just behind his best friend Lou, who was quite good-looking and had very nice abs.

However, though Spike had everything going in his favor, he just wasn't Keira's type. For obvious reasons, this was a good thing: Sam and Jules may have been able to get away with a burgeoning coworker romance, but Keira was on a much tighter leash than Jules. Besides, no matter how pleasant Spike was to look at, she simply didn't see herself going on a date with him—never mind entering a serious relationship with him.

After Will, in fact, it was hard to imagine being in love with anyone else.

Keira pulled into Spike's driveway about an hour after dinner, parking her car in front of the small garage attached to the modest ranch. Spike lived in his parents' basement, which may have been one of the reasons for his inability to hold onto a girlfriend for more than a month. His mother was very possibly another: woe betide you if you ate dinner before coming over to the Scarlatti house, because you were pretty much guaranteed to be force-fed a three-course meal. Keira had no idea how Spike managed to keep any semblance of a figure.

Fortunately for her, it was late enough that the Scarlattis were either asleep or in bed watching a soap opera rerun, so Keira was able to quietly let herself in by using the key under the welcoming mat (which Mrs. Scarlatti insisted on leaving there, to Spike's perpetual chagrin). Navigating the dark house by memory, she eventually came to the basement door and knocked softly.

Spike answered a moment later, dressed comfortably—and adorably—in flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt. "Hey," he said, grinning. One of his hands was holding a half-eaten carton of lo mein; the other, chopsticks. "Hope you saved some room—I got peking ravioli and fried rice, too. I had to smuggle it in, though, so don't tell my mom."

Keira pantomimed zipping her lips, then followed him down into the basement. As usual, she had to take care not to trip over any of the wires that were strewn across the floor like confetti. "I bet you clean up when you bring other girls down here," she teasingly complained.

"That's because I know you love me anyway," Spike retorted cheerfully. "Now, sit your skinny ass down and gorge on peking ravioli with me."

Keira settled in on his bed, the only seating option available—Spike had opted for an exercising station where most people would have put a couch—and obediently reached for the ravioli carton. "Mario Kart again?" she asked, noticing what was on the TV.

"Hell yes, want to play?" Spike replied.

Keira considered, but wasn't really in the mood to have her ass kicked. "Not right now," she decided, biting into one of the raviolis. "Mm, this is good. Your mom's are better, though."

Spike laughed. "My mom keeps asking me why I'm not dating you. She tells me I need to 'make an honest woman' out of you."

Giggling, Keira replied, "What is that from, like, the fifties?"

"Probably," Spike said. "I'm just glad she doesn't think we're actually doing anything, because I have no idea how I'd even begin to explain that we're not just playing Nintendo."

"Yeah, please don't," Keira said, rolling her eyes. "She'd probably hate me."

"No, she wouldn't," Spike promised. "She really likes you, cause you're always complimenting her cooking."

"Well, she's a good cook," Keira pointed out. "You're going to starve to death when you get your own place."

Spike agreed that this was likely to happen, then eyed her speculatively over the rim of his lo mein carton. "So," he said.

"If this is about today, I really don't want to talk about it," Keira answered warningly. She had no desire for a repeat performance of the nervous breakdown she had suffered in her brother's kitchen, which had ultimately led to her sobbing hysterically in Jason's arms while Allie gaped at the two of them in bewilderment.

"You know, you kind of threw the whole 'keeping my personal life separate from my job' thing out the window when you started coming over here," Spike reminded her. "Don't you think it's time to open up a little?"

"No," Keira said replied flatly.

"Come on, Keira," Spike wheedled, putting his lo mein carton down on the floor. "You've been at the SRU for a year now, and all I know about you is that you hate strawberry-flavored condoms and that you're always Toad on Mario Kart. The others don't even know that, so that pretty much leaves them with your name and your usual coffee order. We all know more about your brother and your nephew than we do about you. What gives?"

"You know more than that about me," Keira said petulantly, more for argument's sake than anything else. "I just told you that I like your mom's cooking."

"That doesn't count," Spike protested, rolling his eyes.

"Look," Keira began, setting her carton aside, "I really don't want to talk about it. In fact…" She glanced meaningfully at him, and said, "I kind of don't want to talk at all right now."

Spike hesitated. "But—"

"Spike," Keira interrupted him, softly yet firmly. "Before we started doing this, I told you I didn't want to sleep with someone who would ask questions. And you've been really good about that so far—but right now, you're slipping."

Spike took the hint. "So," he said, reaching over towards his nightstand (and Keira could have loved him for that, how easily he dropped the issue); "since strawberries apparently aren't your thing, how about apple-flavored?"

"Don't you have any regular condoms?" Keira asked with a snort, starting to wriggle out of her jeans.

"Hey, the flavors are a hit with the ladies," Spike defended himself.

Resisting the urge to point out that none of the "ladies" ever lasted long, Keira pretended to consider her options.

"I also have 'ribbed for her pleasure' ones," Spike offered.

"Shut up. You do not," Keira immediately said, lunging over to look. She found herself staring down at an impressive array of condoms, several of which were ribbed. "Oh my God, you do."

"Not everyone likes the generic kind," Spike told her smugly. "I've got something for everyone in here."

"Okay, lover boy, you need to stop talking and start getting this thing on," Keira said with a smirk, fishing out one of the ribbed condoms—a little experimentation never hurt—and handing it to Spike. As he began opening the small package, she discarded her jeans over the side of the bed and set to work on her sweater.

Spike looked on in interest. "Since when did you start wearing red lingerie?" he asked, visibly intrigued as he examined the scrap of lace between her legs.

Keira shrugged. "Victoria's Secret was having a sale," she replied, removing her sweater. "Thought I'd splurge."

"Not bad," Spike murmured appreciatively. A moment later, he seemed to remember that he, too, had to get undressed; he accordingly made quick work of his t-shirt and flannel pants, which soon disappeared over the side of the bed.

When he was completely naked except for the condom, he glanced up, ready to go—only to realize that Keira was still wearing her shirt. "You don't have to take it off, if you don't want to," he said, knowing why she had hesitated.

Flustered, Keira replied, "No, it's okay…" Biting her lip, she added, "Sorry, it's just that… Well, it's kind of a turn-off, you know?"

"Maybe for some jerks out there, but not for me," Spike said adamantly. He wasn't saying it to make her feel better; she could tell, just by looking at him, that he was completely serious.

Impulsively, she leaned forward and, to his surprise, kissed him on the cheek. "You're a good guy, Spike," she said simply, feeling a rush of affection for her friend. If her life had been any different, she could have fallen in love with him—but there was no point in contemplating the what ifs, not when she was perfectly satisfied with their relationship as it stood.

Caught off-guard by the compliment, Spike flushed and muttered something about "just telling the truth."

Keira shook her head in amusement. "Shut up," she said, straddling him, "and kiss me."

As it turned out, the ribbed condoms lived up to their reputation. More importantly, Spike was so adept at distracting her that, even when she finally took her shirt off, Keira hardly noticed the scars that covered every inch of her torso: battle wounds of a childhood that, until today, she thought she had succeeded in putting behind her. For the brief time in which her body was pressed against Spike's, she was able to forget the expression on Will McKnight's face as he became smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror—and, most of all, the growing realization that a decade hadn't given her nearly enough time to fall out of love with him.


	6. It's a Date

**A/N: **Sorry for the lack of an update last week! We lost power due to Hurricane Irene, and we didn't get it back until Friday, at which point I figured it'd be best to wait until this week. I hope everyone who was affected got their power back, too!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: It's a Date<strong>

The next day, Keira silently seethed as Will managed to win over every single one of her coworkers.

(Except for Ed. Even Will wasn't _that_ good.)

She remembered most of her high school years, unfortunately, but somehow she had forgotten that the majority of her friends at that time had actually been Will's to begin with. Her refusal to talk about herself or invite anyone over to her house for any reason hadn't exactly made her the most popular person ever; most of their fellow students had, even unconsciously, been repelled by what was generally perceived as stand-offish behavior. Will, on the other hand, had been the charming guy on the hockey team who, star forward though he wasn't, was just plain nice to everyone. No matter what someone's position on the social food chain, he was guaranteed to have a smile and a kind word for them.

It became evident very quickly that his friendliness hadn't lessened over the years. Within a minute of walking into work, Keira was greeted by the sight of Will and Winnie laughing together at the front desk. "Sawyer is the most hilarious character ever," Winnie said, giggling in a very un-Winnie manner. "That one episode where he was teaching Jin how to speak English? I _died_."

"That was pretty great," Will agreed, chuckling. "You know, I can't wait to see how they're going to explain everything by the finale. I wonder if they've got it all figured out by now…"

Keira managed to sneak into the locker room without the two of them noticing her, but she was thoroughly annoyed by what she had just heard. Of course Will would watch Lost; he was a sucker for those science fiction-type shows. She, too, enjoyed the show, although she had no idea what was happening half the time. (And she was mostly just watching for the shirtless Sawyer scenes.) Unlike her, however, Will had somehow managed to discover that Winnie was also a fan.

_Since when has Winnie liked Lost?_ Keira thought irritably, shrugging out of her jacket and opening her locker with more force than necessary. _She's never mentioned it before. How did Will find out?_ She was inexplicably furious that he had had the confidence to bring it up—on his first day, no less—when she had never said anything about watching the show for fear of being ridiculed by Ed and the others. Which mainly meant Ed, who'd made no secret of his disdain for "that airplane soap opera, which was completely unrealistic. He didn't know why Sophie even bothered watching it, because it was obviously going to turn out that they were all dead."

"Hey, Keira," Jules greeted her cheerfully a moment later, practically waltzing into the locker room.

"You've got some paint on your face," Keira responded, barely glancing up.

Jules blinked, then opened her locker and checked herself out in the mirror. "Thanks," she said, rubbing the blue smudge off her cheek. Thanks to a series of intense home renovations, it wasn't unusual for her to come into work with the residue of various glues or paints still on her from the night before. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Keira replied, heading into the bathroom to don her training uniform. Courtesy of the grotesque scars on her upper body, changing in the open was out of the question.

"Hey, uh…" Jules's hesitant voice filtered in through the stall. "Will seems like a nice guy."

Keira glared at the door. "Yeah, he is," she replied noncommittally.

"Lose touch with him after high school, or something?"

"Or something," Keira muttered.

"Come again?"

"Why the twenty questions?" Keira asked, emerging from the stall in her uniform.

Jules raised her hands in mock surrender. "Just curious," she answered.

"There's really nothing to be curious about," Keira insisted, folding her civilian clothes and dropping them into her locker. "We went to high school together, we drifted apart like everyone in high school does, the end until yesterday. I wonder if we're going to get a call today."

Jules played along, though the subject change had clearly been noted. "Hey, maybe it'll be an opportunity to step up to the plate."

The "plate," in this case, was the position of negotiator, which Keira had yet to fill. Although she had been trained, just like everyone else, in order to be able to talk down a subject, Greg was almost always the head negotiator. If he needed to defer to someone, it was generally to Jules—who usually handled cases involving female subjects. Occasionally, as was deemed appropriate, other members of the team took on the role; but whether by chance or because Greg didn't think she was the best candidate, she had never experienced the real deal.

"Yeah, maybe," she said to Jules, highly doubting that her friend was right. Sometimes she wondered why Greg had picked her for the team, when he never seemed to want to give her the opening to prove herself.

She and Jules headed to the gun cage, where they were due to start weapons training. Keira was again reminded of Will, who was bound to outdo her at the shooting range—even though she had put in countless hours of extra training time to improve her scores.

Sam entered a moment later, and Keira pretended not to notice the small grins he and Jules exchanged; Wordy, Spike, and Lou followed close behind.

"Your homeboy ruined my practical joke," Spike complained almost immediately to Keira.

"Can you stop calling him my 'homeboy'?" Keira asked exasperatedly. "And what, let me guess: you filled his locker with shaving cream and he didn't flinch?"

"He _laughed_," Spike replied, highly insulted. "It required sheer artistry to get the whipped cream to ooze just so out of the holes, and he _laughed_."

"Guy's got a sense of humor," Wordy remarked appreciatively, glancing at Keira as he spoke.

"Sorry, Spike," Keira said, pointedly ignoring Wordy. "I guess you're going to have to step it up a notch."

"Give us something to work with, then," Lou suggested, raising an eyebrow at her.

Spike's eyes lit up. "Yeah, we need dirt," he agreed excitedly. "How does he feel about spiders? I could totally borrow my cousin's—"

"I'm pretty sure Parker wouldn't react well to a spider infestation," Keira said quickly, repressing a shudder at the thought of those eight-legged freaks spilling out of Will's locker. If there was one thing she hated more than almost anything in the world, it was spiders. "Just… I don't know. Do what you always do. Put cream cheese in his vest or something."

"Not good enough," Spike declared. "Besides, didn't I already do that to you?"

"Yeah, you did," Keira muttered. The vest still had the stains to prove it.

"And to me," Sam pointed out, grimacing.

"Oh. Right." Spike looked chagrined. "I think I'm losing my touch," he said to Lou, alarmed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, how about less talking and more working?"

The younger members of Team One hastily began loading their weapons as Parker entered the gun cage, Ed and Will in tow. Almost immediately, Keira wished that the SRU had commissioned uglier uniforms: Will looked unfairly attractive in his, which had a very negative impact on her resolution to remain indifferent to him.

Behind her, Spike sniggered. At first, Keira was afraid that he had guessed her thoughts—then, she realized that Will still had a glob of whipped cream on his cheek. Sam and Jules saw it a second later, turning hastily aside to conceal their grins. Judging by the others' reactions, it seemed as if an instantaneous pact had been formed: to say absolutely nothing, and see how long it took Will to notice.

Spike's prank hadn't been totally ineffective, after all.

The whipped cream stayed on Will's cheek as they loaded their weapons and headed to the shooting range, as they grabbed the protective ear phones and lined up to start firing; and ever so often Keira caught a glimpse of a smirk on one of her teammates' faces, or heard the faint beginnings of a laugh which was hastily turned into a cough. Will seemed completely oblivious to it all, studiously double- and triple-checking his gun to make sure that everything was in place.

Keira waited for one of them to break the silence, growing increasingly annoyed when no one did. She tried to ignore them all—Will especially—and concentrate on her own weapon, but she lost focus with each muffled chuckle. _Is this really necessary?_ she wondered. As irritated as _she_ was with Will for joining the SRU (and she hated the fact that she couldn't even blame him for it, because it wasn't his fault that he'd stumbled his way back into her life), it bothered her that he'd become the butt of one of Spike's jokes. She couldn't explain why, because God knew that she'd laughed her ass off when Sam had gone a whole day without realizing that Lou had put pink hair dye in his shampoo bottle, but all of a sudden she wished the pranks would stop. _It's just immature at this point,_ she grumbled to herself. There was no reason for them to be making fun of Will.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. While Spike and Lou were squaring off against each other, and the others were placing bets as to which of them would do better, she took the opportunity to close the gap between Will and herself and mutter in his ear, "You've got some whipped cream on your cheek."

He glanced at her, startled; she surreptitiously rubbed her own face and then moved back away, reluctant to be so close to him. She had caught a whiff of his cologne, and recognized it as the brand he had started wearing later in high school—which brought back too many memories for comfort.

"Thanks," Will murmured, looking down at the whipped cream on his thumb. He eventually licked it off, chagrined. "I, uh, guess it's been here for awhile," he added, his ears turning slightly pink.

"Yeah," Keira confirmed reluctantly.

Will looked at her, again, as Sam and Jules took Spike and Lou's places. "Can we talk?" he muttered. "After work?"

Keira pretended to be examining her gun; yet she saw nothing but the lights of that party, that last dorm party before she broke up with Will, and her voice wavered as she replied quietly, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Will's response was cut off by the arrival of Spike and Lou, who had finally argued enough over the outcome of the shooting round (Spike insisting that there was something wrong with his gun, that there was no way Lou could have beaten him; and Lou smugly rebutting each of these assertions).

"Hey, Will," Lou said, pausing only to roll his eyes at Spike. "Some of us are going to the bar around the corner after our shift tonight. You interested?"

If Keira hadn't been so determined to maintain an impassive expression, her mouth would have dropped open in indignation. Every Thursday night—at least, every Thursday night that didn't find them in the midst of a hostage situation—the team went out and had a few drinks together. The same invitation Will had just received, after less than a day on the job, had taken Keira two weeks to earn. (And she was pretty sure that Spike had only issued it out of pity.)

_Please say no,_ she silently urged Will. The last thing she needed was a night at the bar with her ex.

"Sounds great," Will promptly said, smiling gratefully at Lou. "Count me in."

"Keira, you coming?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Keira thought of how she had been looking forward to the outing all week, it being the sole event on her practically nonexistent social calendar. It wasn't like she really connected with anyone on the team—mostly she sat and sipped water while the others talked—but, Thursday nights, she could sometimes fool herself into thinking that she felt like part of the group. Like she belonged. And now, Will McKnight threatened to ruin everything. Was there any point in her going now, and having to watch him win everyone over with his charm and easygoing manner?

On the other hand, not going might be even worse—what if he talked about her? What if he told the rest of the team enough about her that they started to wonder, maybe even to connect some of the dots? If that happened… If they ever guessed…

"Keira?"

_Damn you, Will McKnight,_ Keira thought. Bracing herself with a forced smile, she looked at Spike. "Yeah," she replied, inwardly cringing. "I'm in."


	7. Faux Pas

**Chapter Seven: Faux Pas**

Keira hated herself for doing it, but after work she spent an inordinate amount of time getting dressed. Normally, she showered and threw on whichever bar-friendly outfit she had brought along; yet now she grimaced at the clothes, wishing she had picked out something nicer, and silently bemoaned the fact that she had only brought eye shadow, mascara, and lip gloss.

_Like Will cares,_ she told herself, irritated that _she_ cared.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were looking for some action tonight."

Jules's teasing (yet curious) voice rang out as she joined Keira in the bathroom. Keira glanced over, realizing that Jules had already dressed and was waiting for her.

"Sorry," Keira muttered, giving herself one last critical examination in the mirror. "And no, I'm not planning on getting laid."

"So, why all the fuss?" Jules asked, raising an eyebrow when Keira tugged at her shirt and sucked her stomach in.

"There isn't any fuss," Keira replied automatically. "Come on, let's go."

Yet after Jules shrugged in surrender and turned around to leave, Keira couldn't help but look at herself again. Leggings, heeled boots, and a dressy shirt—she swallowed, insecure as always about the length of her sleeves.

In the end, however, there was nothing for it but to follow Jules out of the locker room.

* * *

><p>Aside from the fact that the inside of his locker now smelled like whipped cream, Will thought that he had made it through his first day as well as could be expected. His new teammates had been impressed by his scores on the shooting range—Keira's voice noticeably absent amidst the others' praise—and he had kept up on all the drills. He knew the time to prove himself would be the real deal, but for now he was doing all right.<p>

As far as getting a straight answer out of Keira went, however, he was failing pretty miserably.

"Wonder what's taking them so long," Spike mused beside him, referring to Keira and Jules. The two women were still getting ready in the locker room, while the guys had been waiting in the lobby for the past five minutes—with the exception of Ed, whose son had a concert.

"What do you expect?" Wordy inquired, chuckling. "It's a night out; the ladies want to look their best."

Lou snorted. "Well, it's not like either of them ever end up going home with a guy, so…"

Will really, _really_ didn't want to think about Keira going home with a guy.

"Hey, maybe they do and we just don't know it," Spike suggested, a small grin on his face.

"It's none of our business if they do," Parker interjected mildly.

"Is Keira—are Keira and Jules dating anyone?" Will asked before he could stop himself.

He inwardly winced when Parker shot him a thoroughly piercing look. That… had not been one of his subtler moments.

Luckily, the others didn't seem to have noticed. "No," Sam replied, shaking his head vigorously. "Definitely not."

"Can you imagine Keira dating someone?" Lou demanded, laughing. "It'd be like dating the CSIS—she wouldn't tell the poor guy anything."

"Bet she wouldn't even let him meet her parents," Sam guessed. "Remember that one time I asked her about her family, and she practically bit my head off?"

"Yeah, I don't get it," Spike muttered. "Will? Care to enlighten us?" he queried, glancing over.

"Enlighten you about what?" Will replied, distinctly remembering Keira's warning from the night before: _The guys here don't know anything about my life before I came to the SRU, and I intend to keep it that way._

"Why she doesn't talk about her family or, apparently, even speak to them?" Spike elaborated, raising an eyebrow. "You grew up with her, you must know something."

Will was starting to think that he didn't know anything about Keira; not anymore, at least. "Look, guys," he said, with a helpless shrug of his shoulders, "I have no idea what's going on with her. Even if I did…"

"She already got to you," Spike finished grimly.

"She works fast," Lou observed with a wry smile.

"I don't know, Lou, I think something else is going on here," Spike theorized, fixing Will with a sharp look. He slowly advanced, a devilish glint in his eye. "The two of you used to date, didn't you."

It wasn't a question.

"I knew it!" Spike exclaimed when Will, his cheeks flaming, didn't respond. "Most people, when they run into someone they haven't seen since high school, do that awkward thing where they try to pretend they're really excited to see each other, but you two—"

"I've spoken to both Will and Keira about it, and they've assured me that they will handle themselves professionally," Parker told Spike, who looked extraordinarily satisfied with himself for having dragged the cat out of the bag. "Right, Will?"

"Yes, sir," Will hastily assured him—not that he would have said anything else under the collective gaze of almost the entire team.

Though Spike looked like he wanted to press the issue, Will was saved by the sound of footsteps hurrying from the direction of the locker rooms. "Sorry we took so long," Jules apologized, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You're all ready?"

Will barely heard her. All his attention was on Keira, who was nothing short of gorgeous. She was wearing an emerald green shirt that glittered as she moved, drawing attention to both her slender frame and to her hazel eyes. Her leggings were so tight (he gave her the benefit of the doubt that they were in fact leggings, and not body paint) that they practically forced him to imagine what was underneath… Hurriedly, he wrenched his gaze upward. Her hair, still dark and damp from showering, was already starting to form soft waves around her face. And as she came closer, he could smell whatever it was she had used for shampoo; something citrusy, a scent he had always associated with her.

He quickly glanced away, in case someone noticed that he was staring—because that was definitely what he was doing. He was both surprised and completely unsurprised that she still had this effect on him.

"I think we're good to go," Spike said cheerfully, breaking Will's reverie. "Just F-Y-I, if anyone here needs a wingman tonight…" He held up his hands, silently offering.

"What, no girl for you? How noble," Jules said teasingly.

"Don't worry about me, Jules," Spike replied with a wink. "I'll be all right."

Will noticed when Spike discreetly sent off a text a few minutes later, and figured that he'd already made plans for later; but, had he been a little more observant, he would have seen Keira check her cell phone and send off a text of her own.

* * *

><p>"So, how did you enjoy your first day? Working out so far?"<p>

"Definitely," Will assured Wordy, who was watching him contemplatively from across the table. He hadn't gotten much of a chance to talk to the older man, but, from what he could tell, Wordy was a good guy in every sense of the word. "I'll be sore tomorrow, that's for sure."

"You'll get used to it," Lou promised, smirking.

"Speak for yourself," Wordy grumbled, though he clearly wasn't serious. Taking another sip from his beer, he asked Will, "What about Keira? Is that awkward for you?"

Will tried to conceal a wince. "I'll get used to that, too," he replied, glancing over towards the bar where Keira and Jules were standing. The music and general conversation were loud enough so that he couldn't hear a word they were saying, but he had a feeling—judging by the way Jules kept glancing back at him, and by Keira's pained expression—that he was being talked about.

"How serious were the two of you?" Sam asked, his grey eyes fixed on Will.

Will was half-hoping that Parker would intervene and change the subject, but the sergeant merely finished his Diet Coke and appeared to contemplate ordering another.

"Uh… Well, we'd been friends since preschool, so we were pretty close," Will hedged.

"Wait, wait, preschool?" Spike demanded. "Keira just said you guys went to the same high school together."

"Well, we did," Will pointed out. "But also preschool, elementary school, middle school, and college," he couldn't resist adding, still stung by the way Keira had passed their friendship off as a high school acquaintance.

"When did you start dating, then?" Wordy asked, frowning.

"Right before we went off to college."

"And?" Spike prompted when Will didn't elaborate.

"And she dumped me," Will answered. "What about you guys? I take it none of you are married?"

Wordy raised a hand. "Wife and three girls," he said happily.

"Oh, wow, that's great," Will replied. Now he knew—although he hadn't said anything at the time—why Wordy had been watching Hannah Montana on his iPod earlier that day in the gym. "Must be a handful, though."

"Tell me about it," Wordy said; but the grin on his face said he didn't mind in the slightest.

The conversation was interrupted by the return of Keira and Jules, the latter of which had brought back a rye and ginger. Will frowned when he saw that Keira was empty-handed.

"No margarita?" he asked her, referring to the fruity drinks Keira had fallen in love with at college—and had never had any trouble obtaining.

She gave him a look: annoyed on the surface, but with something else flickering in her gaze. "I don't drink," she told him.

Will started to laugh, but the expression on her face stopped him. "You're kidding me," he said, remembering all the Friday nights he had practically carried her back to her dorm room.

"No, I'm not," she retorted curtly, her entire body tensing.

"True story," Spike jumped in mischievously: "I've never seen Keira drink anything."

"Spike," Parker cut in warningly, "we're not here to judge."

"Thank you," Keira said vehemently. "And, on that note, I'm heading to the bathroom."

She all but bolted from the table, leaving several confused coworkers in her wake.

"What was that about?" Spike asked curiously.

The others shook their heads, each at a loss; Jules finally changed the subject. Will listened in on the new conversation with half an ear, his thoughts still on Keira. Why had she gotten so defensive when he asked her about drinking? She used to love going out with him and their friends; she had certainly made liberal use of her fake ID. Where had this sudden one-eighty come from?

He saw her emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, but she seemed to hesitate before heading back in the direction of their table. She had gone less than five steps when she was accosted by a tall, burly, and very drunk patron.

Will's eyes narrowed as the guy touched her arm and leaned in close to whisper something in her ear. Keira glared at him in response, yanking her arm away—but the man persisted, catching her by the waist and trying to pull her back.

Instinctively assuming the role he had played on countless occasions, Will abandoned his seat and began forcing his way through the crowd. He kept an eye on Keira, whom he could now hear telling the guy in no uncertain terms to leave her alone.

"Baby, I won't take 'no' for an answer," the drunk slurred, practically slobbering over her.

Quick as a flash, Will slipped in between them and draped an arm over Keira's shoulders. "Hey," he said as she stiffened, then realized who he was and slowly put her own arm around his waist. "Is this guy giving you trouble, baby?" he asked, squeezing her shoulder for emphasis. He didn't think twice about it: it was an act they had performed countless times at high school parties, sometimes switching roles if it were Will being pestered.

Like the others, the drunk took the hint. "My bad," he muttered, backing away.

Keira waited until the man had disappeared into the crowd, then bolted out from under Will and turned around to face him. "What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded furiously.

Will looked at her in confusion. "I was just helping you—"

"Helping me?" Keira echoed, shaking her head in disbelief. "This isn't fucking high school anymore, Will. I can handle myself, in case you missed the memo that I'm a police officer. Also, way to pull that stunt in front of the entire team."

Will glanced over her shoulder and saw that, in fact, everyone at their table was staring at them. A dull flush spread to his cheeks as he looked back at Keira, who was practically trembling in anger. Behind that anger, however, he could see something worse: embarrassment and injured pride. That, more than the expressions of their teammates, made him realize how much he had screwed up. Not only had he just exponentially increased the amount of flak the others were going to give them, but he had patronized Keira and offended her as a result. He felt like a total idiot.

"I'm sorry," Will apologized quietly—well, as quietly as he could in the middle of the bar. "I didn't mean anything by it—I just… I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Do me a favor, then," Keira practically shouted at him, "and stop trying to protect me. I already have an older brother—I don't need you to play the hero. Thanks to what you just did, now Parker's going to be even more on our asses than he already is."

"Keira—"

"Save it," she snapped. "You've done enough damage for one night."

Before he could say anything, she melted into the crowd and vanished.


	8. Rolling With the Punches

**Chapter Eight: Rolling With the Punches**

_Slap. Slap._

Will's feet pounded against the treadmill, beating out a rapid rhythm against the belt. He had gone to work early to take advantage of the quiet, but now the silence felt oppressive—and it left ample breeding ground for the memories of the night before.

_I'm such an idiot,_ he thought, cringing as he recalled the looks he had gotten from his teammates after the incident with Keira. Even before he could try to explain, it was a lost cause: they didn't have to be geniuses to figure out why he had rushed so quickly to her defense.

That wasn't the worst of his problems, though. No, what really bothered him was what he had done to Keira. His own embarrassment was something he could handle—but he hated knowing that he had inadvertently humiliated her in front of her coworkers, whom she no doubt was still struggling to impress.

The thing was, he knew she could take care of herself. She always had. But, more than he wanted to admit, he liked protecting her. He liked being the knight in shining armor, the guy who got a grateful smile from her. And that was what he had been—back in high school. She had let him watch out for her, had let him intervene when other guys hit on her.

"_This isn't fucking high school anymore!"_

Keira's voice rang in his head as clearly as if she were standing right next to him. It was true: they weren't in high school anymore. Things had drastically changed between them, and he no longer had the right to assume that she wanted his protection.

"Hey, McKnight!"

Jolted from his thoughts—by the voice of Ed Lane, no less, so the transition back to Earth _really_ wasn't pleasant—Will glanced over to see the team leader walk into the gym. "Morning, sir," he said politely. Ed had the uncanny ability to make you feel like you had done something wrong just by looking at you, and Will had the extra misfortune of being the rookie under the microscope. He wasn't about to make the mistake of thinking that he and the boss's second were going to be friends.

Case in point: Ed cut the small chat entirely and said, "So, I heard there was an incident between you and Keira last night."

Will hoped that Ed would mistake the flush on his face for exertion, but he had no such luck. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you about this ever since Greg told me that you and Keira used to date," Ed began, approaching the treadmill and folding his arms across his chest, "and now seems like a good time. Why don't you get off the treadmill." It wasn't a suggestion.

Will pressed a few buttons on the machine, slowing it down so that he could ease himself off. When at last the belt was still, he stepped onto the floor and braced himself for whatever Ed's idea of "a talk" was.

"All right, let me make something very clear to you," Ed told him, his eyes narrowing. "You're here to save lives, not pick up girls. I don't know what your feelings are for Keira, and quite frankly I don't care. What I _do_ care about is making sure that my team is a cohesive unit that isn't being distracted by things like coworker romances."

"Sir, I—"

"Don't argue with me, McKnight. That stunt you pulled last night was both inappropriate and uncalled for. Let me remind you of something: Officer Ford has been at the SRU a lot longer than you have, and her record is spotless. Which means that if _anything_ goes on between the two of you, you're the one we'll be asking to leave. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Will answered quietly. There was nothing else he could say, not when he deserved every last bit of Ed's ire.

"Good," Ed replied. "I'm glad we've got that cleared up." Without another word, he turned away and stalked out of the gym, his boots thudding heavily against the tile.

Will let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. _Will, buddy, you've gotta start focusing,_ he told himself. He hadn't even been a month on the job, and already he had the two senior officers breathing down his neck—Ed almost literally, Parker in his less obtrusive way. Not only that, but he had gotten Keira mad at him.

_She obviously doesn't have feelings for you,_ he berated himself. _Stop acting so transparent around her and start behaving more professionally. Otherwise, you're just going to keep embarrassing yourself._

He had to hand it to Keira, though: after a decade of anger and hurt, which he had often dreamed of unleashing upon her if their paths ever crossed again, it had only taken a few days of having her back in his life before he was completely wrapped around her finger. That was just the type of person she was: a magnet, drawing him irresistibly towards her even as she repelled almost everyone else. He couldn't pull himself away, not even if he tried.

_Well, this time you have to._ His job was at stake, and due to the nature of his work so were innocent lives. If he couldn't keep his head in the game, he wasn't the only one who would suffer for it.

"Just friends," he ordered himself, turning it into a mantra. "Just friends." There was no reason for it to be difficult—after all, he had been "just friends" with Keira for most of their relationship.

"Just friends," he repeated, ignoring the voice inside his head that was stating the obvious: _love isn't something you can control that easily._

"Ten bucks says it's Wordy."

"You're on, buddy. Keira's got this one, for sure."

In between blocking punches from Wordy and returning several of her own, Keira found a second to roll her eyes at Lou and Spike. This wasn't the first time the two of them had placed bets on friendly inter-team competition, and she was pretty sure they'd each paid a hundred or so dollars to each other over the past year.

Wordy came at her with a right hook punch, which she easily deflected and answered with a swift uppercut. They were in close-quarters combat, something she had to be careful with: she may have been more agile than Wordy, due to her smaller size, but he had far more strength. If her speed failed her, she'd be facing one hell of a fist.

Not that Wordy had ever hit her, even in the most furious moments of their sparring sessions. In fact, he was so worried about accidentally doing so that, sometimes, his hesitancy cost him a match. It was something Keira had never been able to work through with him—and she wasn't the only one. Jules had given him flack a few times over treating them "as if we're delicate" because they were women, but he hadn't budged an inch.

"Come on, Wordy, you've got this—"

"Kick him in the groin!"

Lou's encouragements, along with what Spike considered to be helpful hints, rang in her ears as she continued blocking and parrying Wordy's strikes. Their limbs were moving faster now, building up speed as they established a concentrated rhythm.

"In the groin! In the groin!"

"Shut up, Spike," Keira finally called out as she swung a fist at Wordy. Not that she really minded Spike's antics, but she didn't want to start laughing and lose her concentration.

As she and Wordy sparred, neither of them close to gaining the upper hand, she caught a glimpse of Sam alternating between watching them and working the punching bag. Ed was near him, lifting weights and keeping an eye on her and Wordy.

Determined to earn Ed's approval, or at the very least something sort of resembling it, she put more energy into her strikes. Wordy was forced back a few feet as he struggled to defend himself. "Nice," he remarked, breathing heavily.

As he spoke, Will entered the gym. Out of the corner of her eye, Keira saw him stop short and stare at her.

_Focus_, she immediately ordered herself.

And focus she did—until Will wandered over to the nearest treadmill and took off his shirt, revealing a six-pack so well-defined that she could see it from across the gym and in the middle of a sparring match. _Damn,_ she thought, stunned. _Someone's been working out._

Her momentary lapse in concentration cost her. Too late did she realize that Wordy had just thrown your basic, standard-issue cross punch. Something she could have blocked in her sleep. Something Wordy obviously thought she could block in her sleep, because he was using about as much force as he ever would on her or Jules.

Which was why it came as a shock to both of them when his fist hit her square in the face.

Keira's head knocked backwards with the force of the blow, and she felt the familiar sense of not quite knowing where the floor was beneath her. Unable to regain her bearings, she teetered and collapsed onto the floor.

"Keira!" Wordy cried in horror, immediately crouching down beside her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I thought you were going to block it—"

Keira clamped her hands to her head, which was throbbing angrily, and struggled to blink the stars out of her eyes. She heard, rather than saw, the rest of the team gather around her.

"Keira, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Will's attempt at a calm, steady voice was betrayed by the slight tremor in his words. Keira glanced up and saw him next to Wordy, both of them wearing identical expressions of dismay.

"I'll get back to you on that," she muttered, too dizzy to discern Will's fingers amidst the blurry haze of her vision. (She could tell that he was still shirtless, though. That was nice.)

"Keira, I'm so sorry," Wordy apologized frantically. "Did I break anything? Do you need ice?"

"Jeez, Wordy, it's not the first time I've been punched in the face," Keira grumbled. "I'm okay, I just need a minute. It's not your fault."

"Who punched you in the face?" Will asked quietly.

Keira froze. _Fuck,_ she thought, her head pounding. _Will _would _pick up on that._ "No one," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "Wordy, do you think you could get me some ice?"

But now Wordy was looking at her strangely. "What do you mean, 'no one' punched you?" he inquired slowly.

"Can we not with the twenty questions?" Keira ground out. "It's really not that big a deal."

"Well, it is a big deal, if someone punched you and you don't want to talk about it," Wordy pointed out.

"Because there's nothing to talk about," Keira snapped. "I'm a black belt, remember? Obviously I took a few while earning it."

"Yeah, but that's not what you meant, is it," Lou said bluntly. Beside him, Spike nodded in agreement, his troubled gaze fixed on Keira.

Ed's voice, somewhere behind her, was unmistakable. "Did a guy hit you?"

"_I did not raise you to be some kind of fourteen-year-old slut who gets knocked up before she's out of high school!" Jim roared, slamming his fist down on the counter._

_Keira was too used to the noise to jump anymore. "It's not like I was having sex with him!" she protested, berating herself for her stupidity. She should have known that, the one time she brought a guy upstairs to her room, her stepfather would come home early from work. "We were just kissing!"_

"_You think I'm going to buy that?" Jim snorted. "I've seen the way you've been dressing lately. You look like a fucking tramp. What were you doing up there, sucking his dick?"_

"_Oh my God!" Keira shrieked, disgusted by the gleam in his eyes. She had, in fact, been about to go down on Sean when her stepfather came home… but she wasn't going to let Jim know that. "Where the fuck do you get off asking me—"_

_The last thing she remembered was seeing Jim's fist hurtling towards her._

"Okay, honestly, you're all taking this way too seriously," Keira growled, pushing herself off the ground. There was only one thought in her mind: _I need to get out of here._

"How about you stop deflecting and start answering the question," Ed said, stepping in front of her when she made to walk away. "Did a guy hit you?"

Keira sighed impatiently. "_Yes_, all right?" she retorted. "Two guys and a girl, all while I was training for my black belt. You're sparring every day with each other for months on end; shit happens."

If one good thing had come out of the mess of her childhood, it was her ability to pull lies out of her ass like no one's business.

"That doesn't sound like anything to get defensive over," Ed replied, raising a skeptic eyebrow.

Keira met his stare evenly. "It is when you're sick of being treated differently from the rest of the team. If any one of you guys had said they'd been punched in the face before, no one would have blinked an eye. Because I'm a girl, though, I'm the one who gets interrogated."

"That's because it's totally different—" Will began.

Keira cut him off before he could do any more damage. "Look, I get that you guys have some collective big brother complex thing going on here," she coolly told the others, "but save it for someone who actually needs it. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put some ice on this."

Before anyone could stop her, she slipped out of the circle and strode away, her fists clenching and unclenching.


	9. Asking Jim For Flowers

**A/N: **So, apparently Flashpoint's started again in Canada. *grumble grumble have to wait until October 18th for it to start on ION grumble grumble* Not that this has been an issue, but if you decide to leave a review and you want to squee about it (totally understandable), please don't spoil it for this poor American fan!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Asking Jim For Flowers<strong>

"You crazy, psycho bitch!" the voice growled over the speakers, and Keira felt like she was going to throw up.

At least, if she did, she wouldn't be able to hear the choking noises.

Team One had received a call earlier that day, leading them to a wharf where a woman was holding her brother-in-law hostage on his own boat. At first, they had assumed that the brother-in-law, a police officer, was an innocent victim. He was, after all, the one with a gun to his head, and an attorney who knew the family had hinted at a former affair with his wife's sister that the sister wasn't ready to let go of. The SRU had arrived at the wharf believing that they were dealing with a scorned woman, only for them to learn the horrible truth: that the police officer was abusing his wife, and that the sister was trying to put an end to it.

Keira had frozen when Wordy burst into the van, panting, informing them that they had gotten it all wrong. "Wait 'til you see her neck," he'd said, and Keira had remembered scarves, so many scarves, beautiful reds and whites and pinks that her mother had worn whenever she needed to leave the house.

And then Sam had attached the listening devices onto the boat, and Jules had connected them to the van's speakers, and now there was no escape. She was stuck there, helpless, with no choice but to hear every strangled cry as the police officer struck his sister-in-law.

As he continued to hit her, Keira's mind began slipping away—to another woman, to another beating, to another lifetime.

"_I've had it with you, you fucking slut! Who else have you been sleeping with, hm? Anyone else I should know about?"_

"I'm going to kill you. Right here, right now," the police officer panted.

"_Jim, baby, I swear I wasn't—he's just a coworker, we were just having lunch—"_

"And when you stop breathing, you're going to know that it's your fault."

"_Mommy?"_

"Keira?"

Keira jumped, then saw that Will was watching her concernedly. "You all right?" he mouthed, raising an eyebrow.

If Keira didn't pride herself so much on being able to keep a secret, she would have hated him for not having figured it out yet. But it wasn't his fault, so she nodded curtly and turned away. She'd been distancing herself from him ever since that disastrous night in the club, though he'd tried to apologize to her half a dozen times. She didn't even know why she was doing it anymore. He should have realized that she could take care of herself, but he hadn't meant to patronize her. He was just being Will. And now he'd learned his lesson, so there was no reason for her to keep ignoring him.

_Who am I kidding?_ she asked herself bitterly. _It's easier this way._ At least when she was avoiding him, she could throw herself into her training and pretend that she couldn't always see him out of the corner of her eye.

"Wordy?"

Jules's curious voice interrupted her thoughts. Keira glanced up and saw the senior officer standing there, fingers curled into fists, his gaze fixed on the now-silent speakers. At Jules's inquiry, he started, glanced at her, and made a violent jerking motion with his head. Then, without a word, he turned around and left the van.

"What was that about?" Will wondered aloud, his brow furrowed in concern.

But Keira knew, had seen it there in Wordy's eyes. This wasn't just a job for him.

This was personal.

* * *

><p>It took the police officer a surprisingly long time to figure out that he was going to jail—but, in the end, he'd gone quietly. Keira had seen him as he was being put into the squad car, stiff with shock like he still couldn't understand how he'd been caught. <em>Serves you right, asshole,<em> she thought, disappointed when he didn't hit his head on the roof.

She kept an eye on Wordy while the team was gathering the equipment and preparing to leave the wharf. He seemed more subdued than usual, sometimes biting his lip or clenching and unclenching his sweating palms. Keira was becoming more and more convinced that he had had some experience with abuse—that maybe it had happened between his parents or even to him. The others had expressed their disgust at the cop, of course, but Wordy… Wordy, like her, had been quiet.

She warned herself, as she loaded various lighting supplies into one of the vans, that she shouldn't approach him. If she said so much as the wrong word, he might figure out that she wasn't doing it merely out of concern for him. He might suspect that something else was prompting her to reach out, that he wasn't the only one for whom the scene in the boat had hit a little too close to home. After her reaction to being punched the other day, it'd be easy for him to put two and two together.

"_Hey! Don't walk away from me, you little bitch. Where the fuck have you been all night?"_

Keira grimaced, trying to block out the memories; but it was as useless as cupping water in her hands.

_She fixed her stepfather with a withering look, though behind it she was quivering with fear. "You're not my father," she snapped, knowing what she was provoking. "It's none of your business."_

_The smack seemed to come out of thin air; yet, at this point, it had been a lurking threat for years. The force of the blow sent her reeling, the floor beneath her spinning in a haze of white tile._

_That was when she heard it: the soft, familiar sound of a belt being removed. "I think it's time you learned some manners," her stepfather snarled, advancing on her. "And, now that Jason's gone back to college, he won't be able to learn them for you."_

How old had she been then? Thirteen?

"Excuse me," someone behind her grunted.

Keira abruptly became aware of three things: first, that she had been standing there like an idiot for the better part of a minute; second, that it was Wordy who was trying to move past her and deposit a box of equipment into the vehicle; and, third, that they were completely alone.

"Wordy, can I talk to you for a minute?" she blurted out.

Wordy looked at her in astonishment. "Uh… Yeah, sure," he agreed slowly. "What's up?"

"I…" Keira began, fiddling with her sleeve. "I couldn't help but noticing… You seemed kind of affected by what was going on today."

Wordy made a show of putting down the box. "I, uh… Sorry, what?" he asked when he was done, his face paler than usual.

"I just meant… The call seemed personal," Keira said, rephrasing.

"Uh… Yeah, I guess," Wordy answered evasively. "I just… know someone who was abused, once."

Yeah, like she hadn't pulled that card before.

"Oh," Keira replied. _Same here,_ she wanted to say, to let him know that he wasn't alone. _I'm here for you, if you want to talk about it,_ she'd add; and maybe he'd figure it out, maybe he wouldn't… but he probably would.

The words were hovering on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath, ready to tell him.

What came out of her mouth instead was, "I, uh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Um, do you, uh, need help with anything here?"

"No, uh, I'm fine," Wordy answered, looking every bit as uncomfortable as she felt. "Um, thanks. Will you excuse me?"

She hastily moved aside so that he could escape. When he was gone, though not without one last glance back at her, she leaned against the van and let out a shaky breath. She couldn't decide if she hated herself for being a coward, or if she loved her instincts for their sense of self-preservation. _What if I had told him?_ she wondered, trembling at the thought.

Part of her wished that she had been brave enough to do it, but the other part—the stronger part—was relieved that she'd overcome her temporary bout of insanity. _You'd have ruined everything,_ she told herself. _All because of one moment of weakness._

It was a mistake she would never repeat again.

* * *

><p>"Auntie K! Auntie K!"<p>

A chanting nephew was what greeted Keira when, still mulling over her conversation with Wordy, she returned home that evening. The other officer was temporarily forced to the back of her mind when a miniature Superman assaulted her legs with a fierce hug.

"Hey, big guy!" she cheerfully exclaimed, bending down to kiss the top of Brian's head. "What happened to your clown costume?"

Brian beamed. "Daddy said that Superman could beat a clown in a fight," he declared. "_And_ he can fly," he finished, as if that settled the matter.

"That _is_ pretty cool," Keira replied, wondering if this meant that Jason hadn't been able to get time off to go to the circus. "Come on, Superman, let's go see what's for dinner."

"Hot dogs!" Brian shouted enthusiastically; but, nevertheless, he agreed to follow her into the small kitchen. Jason was there, stirring something in a large pot on the stove. Judging by the smell, it was chicken noodle soup.

"Hey, Keira," Jason said when she entered, smiling at her. "How was—"

"Daddy Daddy Daddy!" Brian yelled, running in circles around the kitchen table.

"Brian, buddy, cool your jets a little," Jason urged him, smiling in spite of himself as Brian flourished his red cape. "Tell you what," he added, winking at Keira: "I've got a mission for Superman."

With a gasp of delight, Brian stopped dead in his tracks. "What is it?" he demanded eagerly, his brown eyes shining.

"I want you to go upstairs," Jason said slowly, drawing out the sentence for dramatic effect, "find your mother… and tell her that dinner's ready."

Brian couldn't have been happier if Jason had told him to rescue a damsel in distress. "To infinity, and beyond!" he shouted gleefully, and sprinted out of the kitchen.

"I take it he watched Toy Story today?" Keira asked, grinning.

"Twice," Jason confirmed, shaking his head in amusement. "So, how was work?"

Keira shrugged, her mirth fading. "We got a call today," she said. "Started out as a woman taking a man hostage in his boat. Come to find out, she was the sister of the wife he'd been abusing."

Jason grimaced. "You all right?" he asked, watching her closely.

"I'm fine," Keira assured him, swallowing. "It's just… We were able to get ears on the boat, and we heard him beating up the sister. He was saying things like, 'I'm going to kill you,' and 'you're going to know that it's your fault'…" She trailed off, suddenly overwhelmed by memories. "Guess Jim's not the only jackass out there, huh," she remarked, trying to lighten the conversation.

Jason shook his head. "God only knows what he's done to Mom since we left," he said darkly, turning off the stove. "I wish she'd listen to us…"

"Well, until she comes to her senses and decides to ditch him, there's nothing we can do," Keira pointed out, folding her arms across her chest. "And, honestly, after all the shit she let him do to us? She can spend the rest of her life with him, for all I care."

Jason winced. "I don't think anyone deserves that," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well, I do," Keira retorted angrily, thinking of all the times her mother had turned the other cheek. "Maybe once all the scars go away, I'll care more, but—"

Abruptly, she stopped talking: she could hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

"I did it!" Brian announced triumphantly as he ran into the kitchen, followed shortly by his mother. Allie rolled her eyes fondly, greeted Keira and kissed Jason on the cheek.

All things considered, dinner was a quiet affair—Brian even consented to try some noodles—but Keira's mind was elsewhere the entire evening. Judging by the look on her brother's face, she wasn't the only one dwelling on the past.


	10. Lou Enjoys the View

**A/N: **I just wanted to apologize for being so far behind on replying to reviews! I've got a long weekend coming up, so hopefully I can catch up soon. =)

This chapter's more on the fluffy, fun side. ;) Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Lou Enjoys the View<strong>

Instead of going to the movies, drinking, having sex, or even relaxing at home like normal people her age would probably do on a Friday night, Keira was standing on a sink in the bathroom of a four-star hotel slash casino and pulling listening devices out of her bra.

"You put those things in your _bra_?" Spike asked, his eyes bulging as she unearthed several hundred dollars' worth of state-of-the-art, impossibly tiny microphones from the depths of her cleavage.

"Well, it's not like I had any other place to put them," Keira pointed out, gesturing down at the dress she was wearing. She was pretty sure that, if someone had attempted to stitch pockets onto it, the flimsy fabric would fall apart.

"Spike, Keira, no time for chatter. You have about three minutes until those guys come your way," Greg warned through the earpieces (also impossibly tiny) they were each wearing.

"Those guys" were a blackjack dealer and a representative of a local crime organization who, as an anonymous informant had revealed, were planning on exchanging a considerable sum of money in the employees-only bathroom. ("Because it's the only place in the casino that doesn't have a security camera," Parker had explained when Keira remarked on the oddity of the location.) The financial crimes division of the Toronto police had been looking for a link between the casino and the crime organization, so the SRU had been tasked with proving it and making the necessary arrests.

Spike was busy setting up the video surveillance equipment. "I love these things," he said gleefully, activating one of the devices and placing it on the ceiling. It was so small that, if you happened to glance up and squint really hard, you might think that there was a speck on the tiling. "Boss, is it working?"

"Yes, we can see you," Greg confirmed, referring to himself, Lou, and Will. The three of them had set up a command post in the apartment building next door, where they had an excellent view of the entrance to the casino. "Keira, how's the audio coming?"

"I've got the first one," Keira reported, planting it behind a light over the mirror. "How does it sound?"

"Great, keep it going."

"Guys, they've left the casino," Jules's voice told Keira and Spike. She and Sam were posing as a couple out on the town, which had amused Keira to no end when they got the assignments. Sometimes, she wondered if Parker knew about the relationship—but, if he did, he seemed to be keeping mum about it. "They're not walking fast, but I'd give you maybe two minutes."

"Almost done," Spike promised, fumbling with the microscopic switch on the second camera. "Just—oh, shit."

The camera had slipped out of his grasp, falling somewhere onto the tiled floor with hardly a sound.

"That didn't sound too good, Spike," Parker said sharply. "What's going on?"

Spike had dropped to the ground and was searching frantically for the piece. "I dropped the camera," he replied anxiously, running his fingers across the tiles.

"Well, hurry up and find it," Greg ordered him, his voice taut.

"You guys needed to be out of there about now," Lou said grimly.

Finally locating the missing camera, Spike clambered up onto the sink and installed it on the opposite side of the ceiling as its partner. At the same time, Keira finished activating the last of her listening devices.

"They just turned down into the hallway," Will announced worriedly. "You're not going to be able to leave in time, they'll see you."

"Damn it," Spike muttered. "Want to pretend we're doing a drug deal?" he asked Keira, jumping off of the sink. "I don't think they're going to believe us if we say we're lost."

"I've got a better idea," Keira said, her heart hammering rapidly inside her chest. She didn't know if it would work, and she'd never live it down if it did, but there was no way she and Spike would pass for druggies. Sliding down so that she was sitting on the sink, her legs dangling over the edge, she instructed Spike, "Get over here."

Spike obeyed her, looking confused. Keira sighed, grabbed him by the lapels of his suit, and pulled him in towards her.

"What the—" Spike began, almost losing his balance.

"Play along," Keira muttered in his ear, a second before she pressed her lips against his.

"Oh, shit," she heard Lou murmur.

Spike had frozen at first, but almost immediately he caught on—and started kissing her back in earnest. Keira reached down and yanked her dress up indecently high, at the same time drawing Spike in closer. He helpfully mussed up her hair, trying to make it look as if they were a horny couple on the verge of hooking up in the middle of the employee bathroom.

"Jesus Christ," Will said faintly.

A rush of adrenaline shot through Keira at the sound of Will's voice. A part of her she didn't want to examine too closely was secretly thrilled at the idea of making him jealous, and she couldn't resist leaning more into the kiss. Spike was all too happy to cooperate, running his hands up and down her back and even going so far as to start tugging at the neckline of her dress.

"Normally I'm not into voyeurism, but this is strangely entertaining," Lou remarked.

Sam, Jules, Ed, and Wordy—the last of which were detailing the parking lot—simultaneously spluttered variants of "What the hell is going on in there?"

Before anyone had time to explain, however, the door flung open and the two men from the casino walked in.

Keira, who had been murmuring something along the lines of "Yes, baby, yes," abruptly opened her eyes. "Oh my God!" she gasped, pretending to be embarrassed. It wasn't hard to produce a red flush on her cheeks: both of the men, one of which could have been her grandfather, were staring at her with thinly-veiled lust. "Dom, honey—"

Spike stopped nuzzling her neck and glanced up. "Oh!" he exclaimed, feigning a flustered expression. "Uh, sorry, guys, we were just—" He licked his lips, which were now covered with Keira's "Very Cherry" lipstick.

The grey-haired blackjack dealer gave Keira a very thorough once-over. "There's a pretty one," he leered, causing all the hair on her body to stand on end.

Keira had to restrain herself from punching his lecherous face. Instead, she slithered down the sink and made a show of rearranging her dress.

"Uh, we should, uh, probably go," Spike muttered, taking Keira by the hand. "Come on, baby, let's find somewhere else…"

"Next time, get a room," the other man said, rolling his eyes as he waved them out.

Keira and Spike nodded obediently, then left the bathroom as quickly as they could without arousing suspicion.

"Dom?" Spike asked when they were halfway down the hall.

"Yeah, you know, from _The Fast and the Furious_?" Keira replied, referring to the action movie she and Spike had watched in his basement about a week ago. Vin Diesel's character had been the first name to pop into her mind.

"Oh," Spike said, smirking at the memory of that particular evening. A second later, he added with an even bigger grin, "By the way, you're a pretty good kisser."

Keira's jaw dropped at his boldness: the rest of the team could still hear them perfectly, thanks to their earpieces.

"I'm just saying," Spike told her, looking as if he could barely hold in his laughter.

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Keira said, only half seriously.

* * *

><p>When Keira entered the briefing room at headquarters later that evening, she was greeted by a storm of catcalls and applause from her teammates.<p>

"Nice work today, Keira," Greg said, grinning. He looked as if he had half a mind to restore order, but couldn't bring himself to take the situation more seriously.

"Oh, God," Keira muttered, contemplating turning right around and walking out. She didn't know if she could handle this, especially the unreadable expression on Will's face.

"You've got some serious balls," Lou complimented her just then, visibly impressed. "Spike, man, the look on your face was priceless."

Spike, who appeared to be just as embarrassed as Keira—_serves him right,_ she thought, _for that comment about me being a good kisser_—elbowed his friend.

"Your technique could use a little work," Jules teased him, winking at Keira. "You were kind of devouring her face there for a moment."

"You saw the video?" Keira asked, alarmed, as Spike began defending his kissing technique ("You wouldn't have had much game if you'd been surprise-kissed!").

"A couple of times by now," Jules said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "So, was Spike any good?"

"He was decent," Keira reported with a grin, unable to resist glancing at Will as she spoke. Outwardly, he looked somewhat bored by the proceedings—he was fiddling with his pen and glancing anywhere but at her. But she could tell, by the bone-white hue of his fingers around the pen and the way his jaw was clenched, just how unamused he really was.

"Decent?" Spike echoed indignantly, drawing her attention away from Will. "That was a totally hot kiss. We should have gotten some kind of award for that."

_Click click click click click_, went Will's pen.

"In your dreams, buddy," Lou scoffed, looking disdainfully at Spike.

"All right, can we get down to business here?" Ed asked, impatiently raising his eyebrows. "Or do we need to talk about this some more?"

_Is there nothing I can do to get so much as a smile out of him?_ Keira wondered in exasperation. It was clear from his tone of voice that the team leader was annoyed by the distraction—maybe even annoyed with her, if he thought she had broken some sort of professional code.

"I will say, though," Ed continued as she found a seat and the others obligingly straightened in their chairs: "that was some good thinking on your part, Keira. Unorthodox, but good."

Keira nearly fell out of her seat in shock: had Ed Lane really just said something nice to her? Had he really just implied that she had done something right on the job? Instinctively, she turned to Will, ready to share an amazed look with him—but Will never met her eyes.

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, not knowing how else to respond.

"Well, we arrested the subjects," Wordy began, signaling the start of the debriefing, "so mission accomplished…"

As Keira was heading out into the parking lot later that night, she received a text from Spike.

_Not gonna lie, I'm really turned on right now. Wanna continue at my place?_

Keira grinned and sent him a response that contained exactly three letters.


	11. Spiders and Sore Subjects

**WARNING: **If you're arachnophobic, this chapter may not be the one for you.

Also, a certain part of this chapter (the one that arachnophobes might want to avoid) is based on something that actually happened to someone I know. Yikes.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Spiders and Sore Subjects<strong>

"All right, gentlemen—or shall I say ladies, based on your recent performances on the training courses? No offense, ladies."

_Plenty taken,_ Keira wanted to mutter; but it was Ed Lane, so she didn't dare speak up. Especially not in the middle of a briefing session, which for Ed was Serious Business even on a day when there had been no hot calls.

"With the exception of Jules, none of you were on your game today," the team leader barked. "Spike and Lou: too much talking, not enough training. Wordy: you need to put in more hours at the gun range. Sam: I expect to see you there with Wordy, because lately you've been sacrificing accuracy for speed. Keira: my grandmother could have gone faster than you on that bike, and my grandmother's dead." Keira flushed, though she was fully aware that she deserved his censure. It wasn't her fault that Lou and Will had both worn muscle shirts while they were lifting weights, but she really should have made more of an effort to stop drooling. "Will: if I had a dollar for every time you stopped your workout to talk to Keira, I could treat myself and Sophie to a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant."

Spike chortled at this, but was swiftly quelled by a Not Amused look from Ed.

Once Ed had finished berating the team for their performance, Greg stood up and gave a far more palatable version of the same talk. Rather than mention specific failings, he stressed the importance of always being prepared and reminded them all that they could always come speak to him if they felt overwhelmed by the job.

It was a beautifully choreographed bad-cop good-cop routine.

Towards the end of Greg's speech, Keira's attention was distracted by a small movement on the opposite side of the table. What at first had appeared to be a tiny black speck on a piece of paper was now slowly advancing across its white surface, heading in her direction. She immediately froze, hoping to God that it wasn't a spider. Not that she was big on other multi-legged freaks, either, like ants or millipedes, but spiders were the absolute worst.

She watched uneasily as it crawled closer to her, unable to take her eyes off of it. Greg's voice had long ago faded into the background; she couldn't have listened to what he was saying if she had tried. _Please don't be a spider,_ she prayed. _Please don't be a spider, please don't be a spider, please don't be a…_

It was a spider.

Keira immediately stiffened, pushing her chair back as far away from the table as she could without drawing attention. Her pulse quickened and her breath shortened as the spider came nearer and nearer, moving so pointedly towards her that she could have sworn it knew how terrified she was. No matter how much she tried to resist the sensation, she could already feel it on her: crawling over her arms and legs, getting caught under her clothing, ensnaring itself in her hair.

Just like the spiders in the closet.

"_Now that your brother's gone off to college, the rules are going to change around here," Jim told her, slicing into his steak with relish. The knife made an awful scraping sound across the plate. "You're going to learn to obey me, or else."_

_Keira flinched, knowing that Jason wouldn't be around to protect her from the worst of Jim's blows. She didn't like it when her brother stepped in and got hurt, but she was afraid of the fists and the belts and anything else in the house that was heavy enough to be used as a weapon. Right now she could see three of them: the empty pot in the sink, the chair Jim was sitting on (which they'd already had to fix when he broke it on Jason), and the frying pan on the stove._

"_Stop crying," Jim ordered her, his face wrinkled with disgust. "I'm not going to put up with any of that baby crap."_

"_Jim, honey, she's only ten," her mother said pleadingly. "She misses her brother, that's all."_

"_There's nothing to miss," Jim snapped. "He'll be back home for Christmas, anyway."_

_Keira thought of how long it would be until Christmas and cried even harder._

"_All right, that does it," Jim snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. Keira, her mother, and the silverware all jumped. "I'm not going to have you ruin my dinner with your whining. Get up."_

_Keira began sobbing as she obeyed. She wondered what he was going to use on her this time._

_Instead of hitting her, though, he stood up and grabbed her by the arm. Keira shrieked in fear as he started dragging her out of the room. "Mom!" she cried, barely able to see her mother through her tears. "Mom, make him stop! Please!"_

_Her mother just sat there and wept._

_Jim pulled her down the hallway, pausing only to yank open the door to the storage closet. Keira barely had time to wonder what he was doing before he shoved her in there, watching coldly as she fell onto the unfinished floor. "You're going to stay in here for an hour," he told her when she looked up at him in confusion, "and when you get out you're not going to be crying like a baby."_

_He slammed the door in her face, and a moment later she heard the lock turn._

"Ford, are you listening to anything the boss is saying?"

Ed Lane's irritated voice broke through her memories, but she couldn't bring herself to respond when the spider was less than three feet away from her. Getting closer by the second. _Oh my God,_ she thought, pushing her chair back another inch. _Oh__my__God__oh__my__God__oh__my__God__…_

"Keira, are you all right?" Will's voice asked worriedly.

_There __was __a __light __in __the __storage __closet. __Keira __turned __it __on, __relieved __to __be __able __to __see. __She __wasn__'__t __afraid __of __the __dark __or __anything__—__Will __sometimes __still __used __a __night light, __but _she _didn__'__t__—__she __just __wanted __to __know __what __her __entertainment __options __were __for __the __next __hour. __Maybe, __if __she __were __lucky, __she__'__d __find __some __food._

_Instead, she found herself gazing into a huge spider web. Literally, the most ginormous web she'd ever seen. "Gross," she muttered, scrunching up her nose. The spider in the center wasn't too big, and it seemed pretty harmless, but she didn't want to be sharing a closet with anything that had that many legs._

_She looked around for something to kill it with._

A dull _thump_ jolted her back to her senses. Will had taken his glass of water and brought it down upon the table, crushing the spider below. "I've got it," he announced, twisting the glass for good measure. After a moment, he lifted the cup and examined the dark mass stuck to the bottom. Keira shuddered at the sight. "It's okay, it's dead," Will assured her.

"That's disgusting," she muttered weakly, feeling as if she might vomit.

"Wait," Spike began, looking at her incredulously. "Are you afraid of _spiders_?"

_At last, she found a bottle of Gatorade. Brandishing it grimly at the spider, she promised, "You're going down, ugly."_

_The spider didn't move—it just watched her from its perch, an easy target. Bracing herself for the inevitable spider guts, Keira shifted her grip to the top of the Gatorade bottle and slammed the bottom half against the wall._

_She had forgotten, however, to take the bottle's shape into account. The bottom had a slight concave, which meant that only the outermost edge could do any damage. Instead of crushing the spider completely, she only caught part of the creature—its egg sac._

_As the sac split open, a dark mass emerged from its confines. Keira gasped in horror as the mass revealed itself to be hundreds of baby spiders, so many of them that they were crawling over each other as they streamed out across the web. There was no way she was going to be able to kill all of them._

_She turned around and banged on the door. "Mom!" she yelled, pounding frantically against the wooden frame. "Mom, let me out! Get me out of here!"_

_Some of the spiders were falling to the floor. Keira squealed as they began moving towards her feet, which were poorly defended by a flimsy pair of flip-flops. "Mom!" she screamed, terrified. "Mom, unlock the door! Please!"_

"_Shut __up!__" __she __heard __Jim __roar __from __the __kitchen.__ "__Keep __your __goddamn __mouth __shut __while __you__'__re __in __there!__"_

"Mom_!__" __Keira __howled __in __response, __stamping __on __the __first __wave __of __spiders.__ "__Mom, __help __me!__"_

_There were too many of them. Keira was jumping up and down at this point, unwilling to let her feet stay on the ground for more than a second at a time. The spiders kept coming, either dropping to the floor or fanning out onto the surrounding walls. "Mom!" she screamed again, her voice cracking. "Let me out of here! Mom!"_

_All of a sudden, she felt something crawl up her leg. She shrieked in alarm, thrusting her leg out as she leaped in an awkward attempt to shake it off. Instead of dislodging the spider, however, she lost her balance. Unable to stop herself, she toppled over and crashed into the opposite wall—right in the middle of the spider web._

_Almost immediately, dozens of baby spiders latched onto her. Keira bellowed in fear as they slid down her shirt and began biting, tiny little pinches of pain that were nothing compared to her terror. Others nestled in her hair, crawling down her face. They were everywhere—she couldn't get them off._

"_Mom!" she yelled over and over again, sobbing as the arachnids covered what felt like every inch of her body. She was thrashing blindly on the floor, screaming with every new bite, praying that someone would come rescue her._

_Jim didn't let her out until her hour was up._

"I really don't like spiders, okay?" Keira muttered in response to Spike's query, compulsively running her hands through her hair.

"I'm sorry, are we cops or a bunch of eight-year-old girls at a slumber party?" Ed asked indignantly. "Officer Ford, either get yourself under control or take a walk."

"Don't let the spiders get you," Lou teased her, running his fingers up her shoulder in a mockery of a spider's gait.

"Don't do that!" she shrieked, twisting away from him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Woah, hey, I was just joking," Lou said, holding his hands up defensively.

"Well, it was a pretty shitty joke, you asshole," Keira snapped, on the verge of tears.

"Officer Ford, _do __you __need __to __leave __the __room_?" Ed demanded.

"Ed," Parker said warningly.

"How about all of you back off and leave her alone?" Will asked, glaring at both Ed and Lou. In an undertone to Keira, he inquired, "Are you okay? Do you want something to drink?"

Keira shook her head; her hands were trembling too much to hold a glass. "I-I'm fine," she muttered, trying to forget the sensation of spiders crawling over her body.

"Look, guys," Jules said, glancing sympathetically at Keira, "we're pretty much done here. Why don't we call it a day?"

"Sounds good to me," Parker agreed. "Everyone, just mull over what we talked about, all right?"

"Unless you were Officer Ford, and weren't paying attention," Ed remarked pointedly.

"And how is it her fault that there was a spider crawling around on the table? _Sir?_" Will retorted.

"Eddie," Parker interjected calmly before Ed could reply. "Come on, everyone, it's been a long day. Let's head to the locker rooms."

Thanks to the escalating tension, most of the team was happy to take Parker up on his suggestion. Keira attempted to scoot out with them, but Ed stepped in front of her and blocked her path.

"Not only were you distracted today, but you were also being a distraction just now," he said brusquely. Keira tried not to flinch under his stare—it was almost unnerving, how little he seemed to blink—but Ed was easily the most intimidating cop she had ever met and she didn't entirely succeed.

"She can't help being afraid of—"

"And you," Ed barked, turning towards Will, "need to watch your attitude. If Keira has a problem with something I'm saying to her, she can take it up with me. That's her, not you. Last I checked, she's perfectly capable of defending herself. And while we're on the subject of restraint, I'd suggest not glancing over at her every other minute during your workout."

_You __are _such _a __douchebag_, Keira thought as Will's cheeks turned a remarkable shade of red. It wasn't like she hadn't checked out other guys at the SRU, if that was what Will was doing… Was it?

"Both of you need to start being more productive. Do you understand me?" Ed asked.

"Yes, sir," Keira and Will chorused, exchanging chagrined looks.

"Good," Ed replied. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."


	12. Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Note:** As you can probably guess from the chapter title, arachnophobes might want to cover their eyes for a bit. I promise this is the last spider-centric chapter!

Also, new Flashpoint on in less than an hour! It's on the ION channel now at 10pm eastern time - can't wait! (Also, after the new episode they're showing an old Spike episode. Score!)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Itsy Bitsy Spider<strong>

Spike was up to something, and it was probably along the lines of "no good."

Based on the Cheshire cat-like grin he wore all morning—not to mention the conspiratorial whispering sessions he kept having with Lou, and the mysterious package he had snuck into his locker earlier—Will had a feeling that Spike was planning a prank of grandiose proportions.

As the newest member on the team, he was expecting to find out what it was sooner or later—i.e., by being on the receiving end of the prank—but eventually he noticed that Spike's mischievous smirks were directed at Keira, and that at one point Lou excused himself after a training exercise and wandered off in the direction of the women's locker room.

"So, what is it?" he asked Spike during their lunch break, while the others were out ordering food. He and Spike tended to bring homemade lunches—Will because it was cheap, and Spike because his mother's cooking translated into amazing leftovers—and, as a result, they now had some quality alone time which Will was hoping to use to his advantage.

"What's what?" Spike asked innocently, before tucking into his pasta with almost indecent enthusiasm.

"The prank that you're planning on Keira," Will answered, raising an eyebrow.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Spike replied, quite unconvincingly.

"Let's see," Will said: "you've been staring at her all morning, you smuggled a large box into your locker when you thought I wasn't looking; and I'm pretty sure that, whatever Lou was doing in the girls' locker room about an hour ago, it involved transferring the box's contents into Keira's locker."

"Okay, fine, I may be planning something," Spike conceded ruefully. "But you'll find out when she does, because otherwise you'll tell her—and don't even think about giving her a warning." He drained his milk carton. "This one is going to be good."

"Better than whipped cream?"

"Compared to this, whipped cream is for amateurs," Spike promised, an unnerving gleam in his eye.

* * *

><p>Will didn't find out what the prank was until later that afternoon, though it wasn't for lack of trying on his part. The team didn't get any calls, which meant that Ed and Parker ran them through exhausting drills the whole day—and Will kept an eye on Spike the entire time, hoping to glean some information about what the other officer was planning. Keira remained oblivious, quietly going through the exercises with a determined expression on her face.<p>

After the last drill was finished, Will headed over to the water cooler and filled his cup to the brim. Spike, Lou, and Wordy were huddled in a group not too far from him, quietly discussing something. Pretending to be completely absorbed by the task of drinking, Will attempted to listen in on their conversation. He wasn't close enough to hear much, but what he could hear didn't sound promising.

"…Can't wait to see…"

"…going to scream…"

"…Guys, I don't know about this…"

"…got the tarantula…"

Will stiffened. Abandoning all pretenses, he tossed his water cup in the trash and strode over to Spike.

"Hey, Will," Spike began, noticing his approach and silencing the others with a discreet hand motion. "What's up—"

"Did I just hear you talking about a tarantula?" Will asked, his heart pounding. Thanks to a hair-raising childhood incident, which he'd actually had nightmares about after she confided in him, Keira was terrified of spiders; "arachnophobia" was putting it mildly. If Spike's prank on her involved a tarantula…

Spike and Lou didn't say anything, but Wordy's guilty expression gave it away.

Will tried to reign in his temper. "Spike," he said, a dangerous tilt to his voice, "did you put a tarantula in Keira's locker?"

"It's a pinktoe," Spike hastened to assure him. "It's totally harmless—"

"You _know_ she's afraid of spiders, you asshole," Will spat, irate. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's not a big deal," Spike insisted, looking taken aback by Will's anger and exchanging a confused glance with Lou. "She'll just scream a little, and then I'll come in and rescue Babycakes, Jr.—"

"I don't think you get it," Will growled. "She won't 'just scream a little.' She's going to have a full-blown fucking panic attack if you don't get in there _right now_ and get that tarantula out of her locker."

"Uh… It's kind of too late for that," Spike replied, reddening. "She, uh… just walked into the locker room."

Without another word, Will turned around and sprinted towards the locker rooms. Behind him, Spike swore and reluctantly started following—but Will ignored him and ran faster, desperate to reach Keira before she discovered the tarantula.

"Keira!" he yelled as he drew closer, shouldering unapologetically past an extremely bewildered Greg Parker. "Keira, don't open your—"

A sudden, bloodcurdling scream cut him off: a scream that that didn't stop but instead gained in volume, finally breaking off into incoherent shrieking.

"Woah, Keira, what the—oh my God, is that a _tarantula_?" he heard Jules saying as he wrenched open the door to the women's locker room. The scene that greeted him confirmed his worst fears: Keira was standing in front of her locker, her horrified gaze directed downward. Somehow, the tarantula had gotten out of her locker and onto her shirt, where it was slowly crawling its way up to her neck.

"_Get it off of me!_" Keira yelled, her chest heaving in panic. The tarantula moved up another inch, its eight legs working in sinister unison. "Oh my God, _get it off of me_, please!" Her eyes locked with Will's, and she pleaded, "Will—"

"You'll be okay, Keira, it's not going to hurt you," Will said calmingly. "Just hang in there for a second—take deep breaths—and it'll be over in a minute." Even as he spoke, he knew it was useless—Keira probably didn't have a single rational thought in her head right now. "Jules, do you have anything we can use to get the spider off…?" he added, keeping his eyes on the tarantula. He wasn't sure he wanted to take Spike's word that it was "totally harmless."

Jules was already searching through her locker. "Hang on a sec, Keira," she called, her voice muffled.

Will slowly advanced, growing more furious with Spike by the second; the raw terror in Keira's eyes was painful to watch. "Will, please, get it off of me," she begged him, tears coursing down her face. "Please—"

That was when the tarantula, by some freakish talent that only a particularly sadistic god would have bestowed upon it, crouched for a split, horrifying second and sprang onto Keira's neck.

"_Oh my God!_" Keira screamed, crying hysterically. She shook her head back and forth, trying vainly to dislodge the tarantula as it started crawling across her throat. "Will, _please_, do something!" she shrieked.

Will had pulled spider-extraction duty before, yet never on a scale like this. Touching the tarantula wasn't exactly something he was crazy about… but he couldn't just stand there and wait for Jules while Keira was in such a state. "Keira, stop moving for a second," he ordered, coming as close as her flailing arms would allow. "I'm going to pick it off of you, all right? But you have to stay still, otherwise I won't be able to get it."

It took a few seconds, but Keira finally stilled her movements—only to whimper and start muttering "Oh my God oh my God oh my God" as the tarantula continued along its path across her neck.

"Okay, hang on, I've got it…" No one other than Keira could have gotten Will to voluntarily try to coax a tarantula onto his hand; but try he did, gently cupping her throat and blocking the tarantula's path. The tarantula resisted, backing away and attempting to climb up towards Keira's face.

Keira moaned in terror, but Will deftly blocked the tarantula's progress with his hand. He held it there, just below her lips, as the tarantula paused and considered.

"Hurry up," Keira pleaded, her face shining with sweat and tears.

Slowly, tentatively, the tarantula stuck two legs onto Will's palm. That was all Will needed: he quickly swooped his other hand below the tarantula and pulled, yanking the spider away from Keira. Startled, Babycakes, Jr. leaped onto his vest. Will immediately shed the garment, tossing it onto the floor, and Jules lunged forward to throw a towel over the creature.

"Oh my God…" Keira murmured, backing away from the towel as if it carried the plague.

"How the hell did that tarantula get in here?" demanded a distinctly familiar, distinctly unpleased voice.

Will turned around and saw that the entire team had crowded into the locker room and was gaping at Keira. Spike, in particular, looked horror-struck. Ed was the one who had spoken; he now stepped forward and, with a rather formidable frown, surveyed the lump wriggling around beneath the towel.

"Ask Spike," Will said shortly, before turning around to face Keira again. "Are you all right?" he inquired worriedly.

Keira didn't answer: instead, her features contorted and she turned a pale shade of green. Will recognized the look instantly. "Bathroom," he ordered, grabbing her by the arm.

She allowed him to lead her to the nearest sink, where he held her hair back as she vomited. Through the door, Will could see Spike scooping up Babycakes, Jr. and hurriedly carrying the tarantula out of the locker room—all while being stared down by Ed. Will might have felt bad for Spike, had his prank not been the reason why Keira was now retching uncontrollably into a sink.

Even when she was done, even when there couldn't have been anything left in her stomach to throw up, she continued gagging. Will reached over her and retrieved a paper towel, which he gave to her, yet she was quivering so much that she missed her lips.

"Do you want help?" Will asked quietly, his stomach turning as he watched her.

Keira vehemently shook her head and, with a concerted effort, managed to clean herself. "I… hate… spiders," she said weakly when she was done, tears still leaking out of her eyes.

"I know," Will replied, slowly releasing her hair. He hadn't realized until now how long it had been since he had touched her so intimately—and he found that he was reluctant to let go. "Spike took it away."

"I-It _jumped_ on me," Keira choked out, looking as if she had half a mind to vomit again. "I-I opened m-my locker and it... it just _jumped_…" She rubbed angrily at her eyes.

"Your phobia hasn't gotten any better since college, has it," Will responded grimly

"I'm pretty sure it just got worse," Keira replied, breaking down into tears again. Will fetched another paper towel and wordlessly handed it to her. "I-It was practically o-on my _face_…" She was starting to hyperventilate; she kept clenching and unclenching her fists, unable to do anything with the paper towel.

"You should go home," Will said, realizing that there was no way she was going to be able to handle a call if they received one. A second later, however, something else occurred to him: "You can't drive like this."

"I-I'll be fine," Keira muttered, clutching her stomach.

"Where do you live?" Will asked, thinking. There were still a few hours left on their shift—assuming she lived nearby, he could easily drop her off and come back.

"Y-You don't h-have to drive me," Keira replied valiantly. "A-And I don't have to go… to go home."

In response, Will looked pointedly at her hands. They were shaking violently. "Keira," he said gently, "you can't hold a gun like that. And you're not going to be able to manage a steering wheel, either."

She roused herself to protest, but before she could Greg stuck his head through the door. "Is everything all right in here?" the sergeant inquired.

"I'm fine," Keira rasped, her face white as a sheet.

Parker's gaze lingered on the vomit in the sink, then fell on Keira's trembling limbs.

"Sir," Will said, "I think she should go home."

"I agree," Greg replied.

"Boss!" Keira gasped, still struggling to breathe normally. "I can—"

"Keira, I'm with Will on this one. You're not in any shape to continue training, never mind if we get a call," Parker told her. "I'm not blaming you, it's not your fault—in fact, I'm going to have a word with Spike after this—but I think it'd be best if you went home and recuperated before coming back. Are you all right to drive? Do you want me to call Jason?"

"Don't call him," Keira ordered, shaking her head. "Not a big deal… I can…"

"Sir, I can drive her," Will volunteered.

Parker scrutinized him for a moment, then consented with a nod. "Keira, I'll see you tomorrow," he added.

"Come on," Will said when their boss was gone, "let's get your stuff. Do you need a moment?"

Keira shook her head, then turned on the faucet and waited for the vomit to swirl down the drain. "Let's go," she said when she was done.


	13. A New Normal

**Chapter Thirteen: A New Normal**

Keira was a wreck the whole drive home, huddling in the passenger seat and shivering despite the fact that the heat was on. Will observed her out of the corner of his eye, ready to pull over if she needed to vomit again. She wouldn't say anything to him—instead she stared out the window, making no move to wipe the tears running down her cheeks.

Her cell phone vibrated fifteen minutes into the ride, and she picked it up with a grimace. "Hello?" she asked dully.

Will could hear Spike's panicked voice pouring rapidly out of the phone. "Keira, I am so sorry, I didn't know—I thought—when you said you were afraid of spiders, I didn't—"

"Spike," Keira cut him off wearily, looking so upset that Will's hatred of the other man reached dizzying heights, "I can't do this right now."

There was a brief pause. "I-Is there anything I can do?" Spike stammered uncertainly. "Is there any way I can make this up to you?"

Keira's features contorted, and for a moment Will thought that she was going to burst into tears. "Can we talk later?" she asked, unable to conceal the hitch in her voice. Judging by the uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line, Spike had heard it, too. "I just… I can't… Not right now, okay?"

"Okay." Spike's reply was barely audible. "I'm really sorry, Keira."

"I know." Keira smiled sadly and hung up, then shrunk against the passenger door and avoided Will's gaze for the rest of the drive.

When they pulled up to her house, a small ranch in a quiet neighborhood, Will parked the car and looked at her. "Are you going to be all right on your own?" he inquired concernedly.

"As long as there aren't any spiders," Keira tried to joke, though her voice broke on the last word.

"I'll talk to Spike," Will promised, feeling awful for her. "He shouldn't have done that to you."

"Don't," Keira immediately said, wincing. "He didn't really know—not how bad it is, anyway. He wouldn't have done it otherwise."

Will noticed that her fingers were hovering over the car door handle, and he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Come on," he said quietly. "I'll walk you up."

"You don't have to," Keira quickly replied; yet Will had already gotten out of the car and was walking around to open the door for her. She made a face, but otherwise permitted the chivalry.

Together, they went up the small walkway. Keira paused in front of her door, seemingly reluctant to head in. "Will?" she asked in a small voice, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes.

"Yes?" he inquired, painfully aware of their proximity: less than a foot apart from each other, their faces perhaps closer than they should have been.

Keira swallowed. "Thank you," she said, "for… for today…" Will opened his mouth to reply, but she wasn't done. "I know I've been… kind of treating you like shit lately," she continued, a hint of pink on her cheeks, "and… and I'm sorry."

And the way she said it, flushing and biting her lip when she was done, was how Will found himself—after everything that had happened, after a decade spent wondering what he had done wrong—shaking his head like all of it had been nothing and saying, "It's okay. We're good."

"I mean it," Keira insisted, her eyes wide. "I've been a total bitch to you, and you just pulled a tarantula off of me." She shuddered at the memory. "I'm really sorry, Will," she finished softly.

"Hey," Will said gently, "don't worry about it. You know I've never been able to stay mad at you for long."

At this, Keira couldn't help but smile. "I think your record is an hour," she teased him. "When I accidentally crashed your bike into a tree."

"That was a good bike, too," Will couldn't resist reminding her.

Keira laughed a little, then sobered as she appeared to teeter on the edge of saying something. "Uh, Will?" she finally asked, staring down at her boots.

"Yes?"

It took awhile for Keira to look back up at him. When she did, she took a deep breath and said, "Look, I'm still not ready to talk about why I dropped out of college. I'm sorry, I just… I can't."

Will gazed into her eyes, wondering if he would see something flickering in their hazel depths that might give him even the tiniest hint about why she had taken off without a warning—but instead he found a closed door, shrouded in quiet misery.

"Okay," he murmured, his former resolve to uncover the truth melting into oblivion as he realized how upset she was. It had always been this way, hadn't it—her with her secrets and her boundaries, and him learning not to ask questions. Supporting, not interrogating. Hoping that, one day, she would let him past the walls she had built to protect herself from an unknown enemy.

"But… I want to be friends again, if you do," Keira continued, glancing nervously at him and then down at the ground. "I know it doesn't sound like it, but I've really missed you. And I want… I want to go back to—to the way things used to be."

"I do, too," Will agreed, meaning every last syllable: he missed having Keira in his life, no matter how frustrating she could sometimes get. "So… friends, then?"

Keira nodded, her lips pressing together the way they always did when she was struggling not to cry. "Friends," she confirmed.

Will suddenly found himself enveloped in a tight embrace, Keira's head nestling against his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Will held her, and neither of them moved as the hug became longer than friendly.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Lou."<p>

Lou didn't look up from the weights he was curling. "Hey, Spike," he said, wondering what his friend was up to now—he could tell by the man's tone that it wasn't a casual greeting.

"Is it just me," Spike began, sitting down at the bench pressing station, "or have Keira and Will randomly become best friends?"

Lou glanced over at the mats in the center of the gym, where the two rookies had been sparring for the better part of an hour. Will was getting his ass kicked.

"Oh, Will, this is just embarrassing," Keira was saying after yet another takedown, this one ending with Will in an uncomfortable-looking chokehold.

"Just—wait—until…" Will's voice trailed off as Keira grinned and squeezed.

"What's that? I can't hear you," she teased him, before relenting and giving him room to breathe.

"It's not just you," Lou told Spike. "They've definitely been friendlier lately."

"Okay, so, correct me if I'm wrong," Spike said, "but didn't she hate him a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah—before he pulled Babycakes, Jr. off her neck," Lou pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Which, in case you forgot—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Spike muttered, glaring at him. "I'm an asshole, etcetera. And so are you, by the way, cause you helped me. But isn't it kind of weird, even with the tarantula thing, how they're all buddy-buddy now?"

Lou shrugged. "Does it matter?" he asked, doing some more reps.

"Well, I mean, it's odd, isn't it? Seeing Keira being… nice to someone?" Spike pressed, frowning.

Lou put down his weights and looked closely at Spike, wondering if there was more to this interrogation beneath the surface. "Odder than you being so interested in who she's friends with?"

"I'm not interested in who she's friends with," Spike immediately insisted. "I just think it's weird. She hated the guy up until recently, and now it's like they're better friends than you and I. You can't tell me something's not off about that."

"You know what I think?" Lou asked, fixing Spike with a sharp look. "I think someone's getting a little jealous of Will."

"What? Why would I be jealous of Will?" Spike demanded.

Lou shrugged noncommittally, deciding not to press the issue, but inwardly he resolved to keep a closer eye on his friend.

* * *

><p>"Finally!" Will exclaimed in triumph as he pinned Keira to the floor, his arms gripping hers and his legs between her own so that she couldn't knee him in the groin. Keira felt a familiar twinge of discomfort, but pushed it away: she wasn't going to give those memories any more of a hold. "One out of, what, ten?" Will continued, so pleased with himself that it was actually kind of cute.<p>

Keira grinned as she replied, "Hate to break it to you, buddy, but I let you pin me—I need to practice my ground maneuvers."

Will's eyes barely had time to widen before she bucked her hips and sent him flying, then made quick work of rolling him over and pinning him beneath her.

"Damn it!" Will growled, in half frustration, half admiration. "Since when have you been a black belt?" he grumbled.

"Since two years ago," Keira promptly informed him.

"Wait, seriously?" Will asked, his unfairly blue eyes meeting hers.

Keira nodded. "Jason hooked me up awhile ago with a cop who taught martial arts," she explained, trying to forget why she had wanted the lessons in the first place.

Will looked as if he had more questions on the tip of his tongue, so Keira hastily stood up and offered him a hand. "What are you doing next weekend?" she asked quietly, so that the others wouldn't hear and get the wrong impression.

"Nothing," Will replied, gazing at her with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. "Why?"

"I have a huge favor to ask you," Keira warned.

Will didn't hesitate. "Shoot."

"My brother and his wife are going away for the weekend," Keira explained, "and I'll be watching my nephew Brian while they're gone. The problem is…"—she blushed, embarrassed—"that I don't feel comfortable being alone in the house at night. There's been some robberies nearby and we don't have an alarm system yet. And yeah, I know, I'm a cop with a black belt. Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Will replied, with a grin that was worth a thousand words.

Keira pretended she hadn't heard him. "So, I was wondering… I was wondering if you could sleep over Friday and Saturday."

When Will didn't say anything, Keira hastily added, "You wouldn't have to watch Brian; I'll be taking care of him. And I would have asked Spike, but then the tarantula thing happened… and Jason knows you better, too." Her brother had insisted on inviting Spike over for dinner when he found out that Keira was sleeping with him—and he had purposefully come home late that night, so he didn't have time to change out of his police uniform before sitting down at the table. Yet although he had reluctantly approved of Spike, Keira knew that he'd be more comfortable with Will in the house.

As if reading her mind, Will asked, "Jason's okay with this?"

Keira nodded. "I already asked him if someone from work could stay over—but Ed and Wordy have wives, Parker would just be weird, Lou has too much of a social life, and I have reason to believe that Sam and Jules have plans. Separate. Plans."

Will chuckled as he caught the undertone in her words. "Separate plans?" he repeated with a smirk.

Keira shushed him—just in time, too, as Ed walked into the gym. "Less talking, more training, folks," the senior officer said by way of greeting.

"I'll be there," Will whispered, before walking over to join Lou at the weights.

Keira turned away so that no one on the team would see her smile.


	14. What If

**Chapter Fourteen: What If**

"Itinerary?"

"Check."

"Emergency phone numbers?"

"Check."

"I think that's it," Allie told Keira and Will, looking down at her to-do list. "We'll call you once we get to the hotel," she added, hoisting her weekend bag onto her shoulder.

"We'll be fine," Keira assured her sister-in-law, smiling at Will. He had arrived early to see Jason and Allie off, and had already earned Brian's seal of approval by possessing an admirable knowledge of Disney movies.

"Call us if anything goes wrong," Jason instructed Keira, leaning in for a hug. "I don't care what time it is."

"Even if it's _midnight_?" Brian demanded, torn between awe and anxiety.

"Even if it's midnight, buddy," Jason confirmed, letting go of Keira and squatting down to embrace his son. "You be on your best behavior—don't give your aunt a hard time."

"I won't, Daddy," Brian promised, biting his wobbling lip.

"And be good for Will, too," Jason added.

Brian pouted, but agreed. "You'll be home soon, Daddy?" he asked worriedly.

"Soon, buddy," Jason assured him. "The day after tomorrow. And you'll be able to talk to us on the phone, like Buzz Lightyear when he's calling in to space headquarters."

The goodbyes continued for several minutes—even with the consolation of being able to call in to space headquarters, Brian was alarmed by the prospect of his parents' departure. When at last Jason and Allie closed the door behind them, he turned to Keira and promptly burst into tears.

"Oh, honey," Keira murmured, bending down and hoisting Brian onto her hip. Will gave her a sympathetic smile. "They'll be back before you know it."

"No, they _won't_!" Brian shrieked.

* * *

><p>It took two cookies, a glass of milk, and Keira popping in <em>The Lion King<em> in order for her nephew to calm down. To her surprise, Will joined them on the couch.

"You don't have to watch," she muttered while Brian was busy mangling the lyrics of "The Circle of Life."

"It's fine," Will told her, grinning: "I love this movie."

Keira smirked. "Didn't we actually see this in theaters?" she asked, vaguely remembering Will dragging her along to see a Disney film at some point in middle school.

"I think so," Will replied. "You wanted to see some awful movie, and I talked you out of it."

"I bet it was a perfectly good movie," Keira retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Shh!" Brian hissed. "Simba's coming!"

Keira and Will hastily apologized, then had to look away from each other in order to stifle their laughter.

* * *

><p>After <em>The Lion King<em>, a hot dog, and five episodes of Power Rangers, it was well past Brian's bedtime. Keira brought him upstairs, coaxed him into his pajamas, and plugged in the clown nightlight before she left the room.

Will was still on the couch when she returned downstairs, though he had abandoned Power Rangers in favor of a hockey game. "Thank you so much for doing this," Keira said, plopping down beside him. "I know it's probably not what you wanted to do this weekend."

Will smiled. "Actually," he replied, "I've been having fun. Brian's a great kid, and you're a great aunt."

Keira flushed. "He's a sweetheart," she agreed. "No matter how many times I have to watch _The Lion King_."

"Training for when you have kids of your own, I guess," Will remarked—though it was more of a question than a statement, an unspoken inquiry he was trying to pass off as a joke. The only thing that was a joke, however, was his attempt at a poker face.

Keira decided to level with him. "To be honest, I don't know if I want kids," she answered with a shrug. "I love working at the SRU, and I have no idea how Ed and Wordy manage it with children. Besides, even if that weren't an issue, I don't have my own place and I sure as hell don't have the money to raise someone."

"Makes sense," Will said quietly.

"What about you?" she asked, unable to resist the temptation. "Do you want children?"

"I guess you've just about said it all," Will told her, watching disinterestedly as one of the hockey players scored a goal. He continued staring at the game as he added, "I'd want to have kids with the right person, too."

"Are you…" Keira began, before biting her lip and trailing off. It wasn't exactly her business; she had given up her right to be involved in Will's life years ago.

Of course, he knew her well enough to fill in the blanks. "I'm not dating anyone right now," he replied. "I broke up with my last girlfriend before I moved here."

"Oh," Keira said, wondering what she had looked like. "I'm sorry… Was it serious?"

Will shook his head. "Haven't had a serious relationship in awhile," he admitted, glancing at her.

"Oh," Keira said again, this time more softly.

"And you?" Will asked after a moment.

Keira thought of Spike, and how he was the only man she had been with who hadn't been repulsed by her scars. How he had once made her laugh in the middle of an orgasm. How they inevitably wound up playing Mario Kart for sexual favors. How she liked him, a lot, and maybe even loved him, but not in the way she loved Will. "No," she murmured, her stomach twisting uneasily at the lie. "Nothing serious."

Silence fell between them, and eventually Keira couldn't stand it. "It's, uh, getting late," she said, leaping to her feet. "I think I'm going to head upstairs. You know where the bathroom is and, uh, everything?"

"Yeah, uh, I'm good," Will replied, visibly taken aback by her abruptness.

"Here, let me unfold the couch bed before I go," Keira said, gesturing towards where he was sitting.

"It's fine, I can do it—"

"It's all right, it'll take me two seconds," Keira responded. "You can pretend to help, if it makes you feel any better."

Will rolled his eyes good-naturedly and then got up, allowing her to fold out the bed. Once she retrieved a spare blanket and pillow from the linen closet, she presented them to him and watched amusedly as he arranged them carefully over the mattress. "Neat freak," she muttered. "Goodnight, Will."

"I'll pretend I only heard that last part," Will grumbled. "Goodnight, Keira."

* * *

><p>It was unusually warm that night. Keira kept her long sleeves, but exchanged her usual pajama pants in favor of criminally short shorts. She found herself wondering what Will would say if he could see how the thin black fabric clung to her ass.<p>

_Don't even go there,_ she ordered herself. No matter how attractive Will was, no matter how much she was secretly pleased at the notion that he was single and apparently hadn't had a serious relationship after her, she couldn't let herself venture any further down that road. It was one thing to fantasize about her fingers running through his hair, their lips pressed together, his hands slipping beneath her barely-there shorts…

Damn it.

It was one thing to fantasize. It was another thing entirely to pursue the fantasy, which was beguiling yet dangerous—and would turn on her once she lowered her guard even the slightest.

_Which I already have,_ she thought morosely. Hadn't she resolved, when Will joined the SRU, to keep him at arm's length? Yet here he was, in her home, all by himself on the couch bed…

Keira resolutely turned towards her own bed, which now struck her as quite empty indeed, and pulled back the covers. Her mind began to wander, conjuring up images of her trysts with Spike—kisses, touches, positions. Only she wasn't picturing Spike: it was Will going down on her, Will gasping as she returned the favor, Will laughing in bed with her afterward.

_Why not?_ the unbidden thought came to her._ I wouldn't have to tell him about college or about what Jim did to me. He wouldn't have to know._

No, he wouldn't have to know… but he would see the scars. Unlike Spike, he might not believe her when she told him it was from a car accident. Spike, bless him, had swallowed every last bit of the fake story: that she had been in a head-on collision with a drunk driver, and that her engine had gone up in flames. That she had been rescued just in time to save her life, but not her flesh. He hadn't asked questions—but Will would.

She couldn't be in another relationship with him, not when it meant hiding everything she had been through. She had done it, once, and it had been exhausting: changing the topic every time her mother or stepfather were mentioned, rebuffing all of his attempts at intimacy, always having to be on her guard.

She didn't want to go through that again; it wasn't fair to him, not after he had been so patient with her. He deserved the truth, and she couldn't give it to him.

_Not only do you have secrets to keep, but you also have a job on the line._ If Parker caught her fooling around with Will, she was as good as fired. She and Spike could be discreet, because they weren't in love with each other; she wasn't foolish enough to think that she and Will would be able to hide their feelings.

_Assuming he still feels the same way about you,_ she scolded herself. Sure, he was happy to play along and be friends with her again—apparently with no strings attached, because he hadn't even pressed her for an explanation.

Then again, Will had always been the saint to her sinner. How many times had she gotten him in trouble over the years? How many messes had she conscripted him into cleaning—messes that, once she started drinking in high school, had gotten steadily more literal? And he had never said a word of complaint. Why he had never walked away was beyond her; she certainly hadn't done anything to earn his love, never mind his recent forgiveness.

She sighed, tossing and turning beneath the covers. It was useless to try and deny it anymore: she wanted him back, even though she didn't deserve him. Her longing went beyond a physical yearning to an emotional need; she knew now that she had never been truly happy without him, though Spike had been enough to keep her from realizing it.

_Don't be an idiot,_ she told herself, though she had a sinking feeling that it was too late for warnings. Even if she could pretend that they weren't coworkers, Will would never take her back. Not after everything she had done to him. She'd had her chance, and she'd missed it—just like she'd fucked up everything else in her life.

Her phone vibrated with a new text, startling her. She glanced over at the screen, even though she didn't need to: at this hour, it could only be one person. Keira debated whether or not to open Spike's message, knowing that it was a complication she couldn't afford. In the end, however, her loneliness won out.

_Hey,_ the text read. _What are your plans for this weekend?_

_Babysitting,_ she began. _Jason and Allie are on vacation._ She paused, her finger hovering over the "send" button. Spike wasn't Will, but… she bit her lip, wrestling with indecision.

While she hesitated, a second message popped up. _I'm thinking one of your god-awful 80s movies, spaghetti, and sex. You in?_

Spike wasn't Will, but he made her laugh. And in a world where she had very little to laugh about, it was better than nothing.

_Screw you,_ she texted back. _80s movies are the best. Except I'm busy this weekend. Jason and Allie are out of town, so I'm on babysitting duty. Does the spaghetti and sex offer still stand for Monday?_

His response was immediate. _Absolutely._

After a few more texts, Keira shut off her phone and closed her eyes, wondering if she was an awful human being. What kind of person was in love with one man, but sleeping with another? How had she gone from thinking about Will, to sexting Spike a few moments later? Did that make her a hypocrite? Or was she using Spike because she couldn't have Will?

By the time she fell asleep, she was no closer to answering those questions.


	15. A Hook Up Is Worth 15 Scrabble Points

**Chapter Fifteen: A Hook-Up is Worth Fifteen Scrabble Points**

"You didn't have to come with us," Keira told Will as she pushed a shopping cart down the cereal aisle, a spandex-clad Brian trailing in her wake. It was Power Ranger day, apparently.

Will shrugged. "I was up," he replied cheerfully, before consulting the list that Keira had hastily thrown together on the back of an envelope that morning—when it was discovered, to Brian's horror, that they had run out of Cheerios. "All right, which one of you guys actually eats Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Is that you?"

"Shut up, I love that stuff," Keira retorted, grinning. "All that cinnamon-y goodness…"

Will made a face. "It's disgusting, is what it is. How can you stand that much sugar so early in the morning?"

"Don't tell me you've become one of those health nuts," Keira said, rolling her eyes.

"I haven't," Will defended himself; "but I like to have, you know, real food in the morning."

Keira elbowed him. "Killjoy."

Will's response was interrupted by an excited gasp from Brian. "Auntie K, can we get the one with the tiger on it? _Please?_" he begged, running over to a shelf of Frosted Flakes.

Keira kind of sucked at refusing her nephew anything. "All right, Red Ranger," she told him—"but only one."

"Nice parenting," Will teased her as Brian eagerly grabbed a box and handed it to Keira.

"Can't you do something productive? Like, get me something from this list?" Keira asked, thrusting the envelope under his nose.

"So demanding," Will said with a sigh.

"What does 'demanding' mean?" Brian wanted to know.

Keira opened her mouth to reply, but Will got there first. "It means that your aunt likes to boss me around," he explained, smirking.

"Then you better do what she says…" Brian warned in a singsong voice.

"See? Red Ranger knows best," Keira smugly declared.

"This isn't fair," Will complained. "You're both ganging up on me."

Keira deliberated on a comeback, then decided to shove him with her hip instead. He shoved back, prompting her to lightly slap his arm—which, in turn, earned her a shoulder check.

"Auntie K!" Brian exclaimed, scandalized. "You're only supposed to fight _bad __guys_! That's what Zordon says!"

"I guess you two wouldn't make it as Power Rangers, then."

Keira and Will's heads snapped up. Standing in front of them—no less formidable with a gallon of milk in each hand—was Ed Lane, his eyebrows raised as he took in the scene: Keira and Will jostling over the shopping cart, Keira about to whack Will with a box of Frosted Flakes, and a spandex-clad toddler in the process of admonishing them.

Too late, Keira realized just how close she and Will were to each other. She quickly stepped away, lowering the Frosted Flakes. "Ed," she said, doing her best to recover. Mustering an attempt at a smile, she inquired, "What are you doing here?"

"Picking up a few groceries for the family," Ed replied, his eyes narrowed at Will—who, Keira noticed with a sinking heart, had a distinctly guilty look about him. "Mind if I ask the same question?"

"Picking up a few groceries for the family," Keira returned weakly, gesturing towards Brian. "I don't think you've met my nephew?"

Unfortunately for her, Brian chose that moment to whisper loudly, "Auntie K, who's that scary bald man? Why is he talking to us?"

Will practically choked; Keira thought she would faint with embarrassment. "Brian, honey, this is Mr. Lane," she told her nephew, her face suddenly bearing a rather striking resemblance to a fire hydrant. "I work with him. And it's not very nice to call someone a scary bald man."

"Hey, big guy," Ed said, his mouth twitching with a smirk. Keira could tell that, far from being annoyed by Brian's comment, the team leader was thoroughly amused by her mortification—a notion that wasn't exactly comforting.

Brian looked like he wanted to hide behind Keira; but, mindful of his Red Ranger costume, he bravely put his hands on his hips and stared at the officer, silently evaluating him.

"So," Ed began, "is there a reason why the two of you are grocery shopping together?"

Keira's first instinct was to lie and say that they had just run into each other, but she couldn't risk it when there was a chance that Brian might blurt out the truth. Inwardly groaning, she admitted, "Jason and Allie went away for the weekend. I wasn't comfortable staying home alone with Brian, so I asked Will to help out."

Brian, who had evidently decided that Ed wasn't as scary as originally thought, chimed in: "Will knows _all_ the Disney characters!" This, clearly, was enough to give Brian a favorable impression of anyone.

"Yeah? Good for Will," Ed replied, in a way that made Will flush to the roots of his hair.

Keira sighed. While Ed was undisputedly one of the best officers out there, his strict adherence to an unspoken code of manliness—as well as his enforcement of it at the SRU—bothered her a lot. He had a low tolerance for things he deemed "girly," and he made a point of keeping the others in line with him. Keira had heard him mock Wordy for watching romantic comedies in the workout room, even though Wordy was doing it to keep up with what his daughters liked; he'd also once given Jules a hard time when he caught her listening to Kelly Clarkson. Then there was the fact that he addressed the team as "ladies" whenever their performance was less than stellar.

Now, more than ever, Keira longed to tell him to cut the sexist bullshit—but it was _Ed __Lane_, so instead she bit back the retort and said, "Well, we should be going. We still have to get the milk."

"Have fun babysitting, Will," was Ed's parting remark.

* * *

><p>Will liked to think that he knew Keira better than just about anyone. Not that that really meant much, these days, but he still prided himself on being able to pick up on her every mood. He had been her friend for so many years that he could decipher the slightest glance, the merest twitch of a muscle. He knew the difference between how she stood when she was angry and how she stood when she was happy. He could tell when she was thinking hard about something, because she gently bit her lip; and he had always been able to tell when she was frightened, because her shoulders would hunch over as if she were preparing to shield herself from a blow.<p>

As his second day at the Ford's house came to a close, however, he began to doubt himself.

It started when Brian was put to bed, leaving Keira and Will to entertain themselves with a game of Scrabble. As always, they were fiercely competitive—and neither of them were above trying to wrestle an essential tile out of the other's grasp.

"Malign," Will declared triumphantly, placing the "n" on the board with a flourish.

Keira made a face at him, then surveyed her options. "Oh, fuck," she groaned a second later, grimacing at her own tiles. "Just one letter away from 'quixotic'… fucking x's…"

Will couldn't resist: he took the "x" he had been holding onto for the past several rounds, unable to fit it into a word, and dangled it in front of Keira.

"You bastard," was all the warning she gave him before she lunged for the tile.

"Oh, no you don't," Will said, thrusting the "x" behind his back just in time. "There's no way I'm letting you get all those points. It'd even be on a triple word score, look."

"All the more reason for you to give it to me," Keira suggested playfully. "Out of the kindness of your heart."

Will snorted. "Make me," he challenged.

In retrospect, it probably hadn't been the smartest thing to say. No sooner had Will spoken than found himself in the middle of a wrestling match—one that he was in danger of losing, because Keira was a hell of a fighter. All he could do was try to keep the tile out of her reach, which grew increasingly difficult as he became distracted by her squirming body.

Afterwards, he couldn't have said how it happened; all he knew was that there was a sudden flurry of movement, one that somehow ended with him flat on his back and Keira sprawled on top of him.

For a moment, both of them froze as the awkwardness of the situation set in. Will was highly conscious of her weight upon his chest, the way her body lifted and fell with his rapid breathing. She swallowed, her eyes wide as they met his—and that was when he saw it. A flash of lust in her gaze, one that vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. But there was no mistaking what it had been, not when it so perfectly mirrored his own feelings.

Judging by the blush on her face, she knew that he had seen it, too.

"I, uh… I won," she said faintly, dangling the forgotten tile in front of him.

"You always do," Will murmured.

Somehow, he had said the wrong thing: as if a door had just been closed, she blinked and pulled away. The pink faded from her cheeks, and her eyes returned to their normal guarded expression. "It's getting late," she said, even though it was hardly past ten. "I should go upstairs."

She started putting away the game, haphazardly throwing tiles into the box. Will sat up and watched her in bewilderment, wondering what had set her off.

"Did I say something?" he asked quietly.

"No, nothing," Keira replied brusquely, thrusting the lid on the box and shoving it under the coffee table. "I'm just tired, that's all. Good night."

He barely had time to reply before she left the living room; a few seconds later, he heard her running up the stairs. With a sigh, he picked up one of the tiles she had missed and turned it over in his hands, trying to puzzle out this latest mystery.

If what he had seen tonight was true, if he hadn't misinterpreted the look in her eyes—and he knew he hadn't—then that meant that she had lied to him on his first day at the SRU. She had told him that their relationship was a mistake, that she hadn't loved him the way he loved her. She had only agreed to go out with him, she'd claimed, because she hadn't wanted to jeopardize their friendship; and that was why she had never wanted to have sex with him, why she had shied away whenever he tried to initiate something beyond kissing.

And in spite of himself, in spite of all the times she had slept in his arms and brushed his hair out of his eyes and told him, with a tenderness that had taken his breath away, how much he meant to her—in spite of the day she had announced that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, whether he liked it or not—he had believed her. It had explained, after all, why she had always pulled back and said, "No, Will, stop" or "No, I'm not ready for that" or even "Oh, um, I actually like this part of the movie, do you mind if we start watching it again?"

He hadn't pushed her. He had asked, once or twice, if something was wrong—if it was something he was doing, if it was something he wasn't doing, if there was a reason why she seemed so uncharacteristically skittish whenever they made out. "Of course not," she'd always brushed him off. "I'm just not ready yet, that's all." And Will would remember all the guys she had hooked up with in high school, all the condoms she had made him buy because she hated the looks the cashiers gave her. All the things he had heard about her in the locker room, even after his teammates had learned not to say it to his face. He had wondered, but quietly.

Yet tonight had been a rare loss of control for Keira, and he had read a completely different story in her eyes. He had felt the truth in each of their ribcages, hearts pounding in unison. For some reason, though, she had wanted him to believe that their relationship should never have happened. Why? Was it because they were coworkers, and she had wanted to establish appropriate boundaries? Somehow, he didn't think that was the right explanation. And it didn't answer the question that was still burning in his mind ten years later: why had Keira slept around so casually in high school, only to balk at the thought of being intimate with someone she had known her entire life?

_Was __it __my __fault? _he wondered, frowning. _Was __she __afraid __that __I __would __expect __more __from __her __than __she __wanted __to __give?_

The realization that he would probably never find out only made him feel worse.

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later, he was catching the tail end of a movie when he heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs.<p>

"_Dirty __Dancing_, huh?" Keira asked, her voice getting louder as she approached the couch.

When Will craned his neck to look up at her, he felt all the blood rush out of his face and shoot straight to his groin. Keira's idea of sleeping attire, apparently, consisted of a long-sleeved shirt and the shortest shorts he had ever seen in his entire life. The only reason he knew they weren't underwear was because of the two flimsy excuses for pockets on the front. The rest of her long, shapely legs were exposed for all the world to see.

"Yeah," he managed, hastily turning back to the television so that she wouldn't see his reaction. Jesus Christ—he knew it was hot out, and he himself had elected to wear only boxers to bed, but suddenly the temperature in the room felt scorching.

"Did you see the prequel they made?" Keira asked, her voice fading as she walked towards the kitchen. She seemed completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him. "The _Havana __Nights_ one?"

"Uh… yeah," Will said, surreptitiously covering himself with a blanket. "It was all right."

Keira made a vague noise of agreement; he heard her rummaging around in the cupboards, then turning on the water for a moment. "Do you mind if I watch?" she asked a few seconds later, reappearing in the living room.

A scantily-clad Keira Ford in bed with him; great. This was not what a certain part of his anatomy needed right now.

"Not at all," he replied, lying through his teeth.

Keira joined him just as the final dance scene started. He repressed a groan when she hopped onto the bed, landing so close to him that their shoulders bumped together. She smiled at him, then turned her attention to Patrick Swayze. He wasn't sure he could even pretend to concentrate on the movie at this point, not when all the nerves on his left side were tingling from their closeness. How was she completely unaffected by it?

He cast around for something to say—anything to break the silence, anything to keep the color out of his cheeks. Desperately needing the distraction, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It was something he had been wondering for a while, but had never found the opportunity to ask. "Why did you become a police officer?"

Keira looked at him in confusion—after all, the question had come out of nowhere—but, at length, she seemed to decide that it was a fair one. "Jason," she replied simply, though something darkened in her expression that Will couldn't quite decipher. "When… When we were at UBC, I signed up for those criminology classes because you were in them, and I didn't have any idea where the hell my life was going. But after I… after I left, I decided it was something I wanted to do for a career. So, I got a job and started taking night classes at a college near Jason's place."

There were so many questions Will wanted to ask—_Which __college? __Was __it __here __in __Toronto? __Why __didn__'__t __you __call? __Why __did __you __leave __in __the __first __place?_—but he couldn't bring himself to do it, because he knew she wouldn't answer.

"Did you finish at UBC?" Keira inquired then, her voice small and laden with guilt.

Will shook his head. "I transferred. CDI had a law enforcement program."

"Oh," she replied softly.

The movie was over, the credits rolling unnoticed in the background. Keira shifted, stretching her legs out in front of her. Will tried to avert his eyes, but even when he glanced away he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if her thighs were straddling him. If he could pull her in close and kiss her so fiercely that she moaned and writhed in his lap, the way he used to in college…

_What __are __you, __a __teenager?_ he chastised himself, mortified. This was not at all the appropriate time to be having these thoughts, not when he was here to babysit Keira's nephew. Who could very well come downstairs at any moment.

He wanted to throw a blanket over her legs, which were mere inches from where his own were mercifully hidden beneath the sheets. Didn't she have any longer shorts?

As if she were reading his mind and purposefully taunting him, Keira uncrossed and crossed her legs again, this time brushing against his own. If her goal had been to make his boxers feel even tighter than they already did, she had certainly succeeded. She didn't seem to realize, however, that his thoughts were now somewhere in a dorm room, back in a time where he would definitely have kissed her by now.

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"You're staring at my legs," Keira said with an amused smirk.

Will hadn't thought that it could feel any hotter in the room than it already did, but apparently he was wrong. His entire face turned scarlet with embarrassment as he rushed to apologize—because there was no way he could pretend he hadn't been checking her out. "I'm sorry," he immediately responded, wishing he could sink into the mattress and never have to face her again. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't—I didn't mean—it's just—your shorts are kind of… short."

"I've noticed," Keira coyly replied, re-crossing her legs a third time.

Something occurred to him then. "You've been doing that on purpose," he said in disbelief.

Her smile widened. "I couldn't help it," she admitted; "it was cute, how you kept trying to look away. You're such a gentleman, Will."

"Glad to know it," Will muttered, annoyed at Keira for provoking him but, mostly, angry with himself for having such ungentlemanly thoughts about her.

"Hey," Keira said, gently nudging him. "I wasn't trying to make fun of you. It's one of the things I really like about you, how trustworthy you are. Don't change that." When he didn't respond, she sighed. "I'm sorry," she added, curling her legs under her in a silent apology. "I shouldn't have—I don't know why I did it, I just—"

Something about her uncertainty made him pause and look at her. She was fidgeting now, unable to meet his eyes; and the telltale blush had returned to her cheeks, a sign that made Will's heart leap.

Emboldened by her reaction, he worked up the nerve to confess: "All I've been thinking about since you came down here is how much I want to kiss you."

He had thrown the words, like dice, out on a gamble; and now they hung in the air, hovering somewhere between him and Keira's frozen expression. The silence stretched out as she struggled to form a response, as Will's stomach slowly twisted into dozens of knots. He began to regret having spoken at all—the waiting was hell, with every single insecurity of his seizing the opportunity to mock him for trying.

_She __already __dumped __you __once, __you __idiot,_ he berated himself as Keira's mouth opened and closed. _What __made __you __think __you __had __a __second __chance?_

When Keira finally spoke, he could barely hear her. "I should…" she began, her breathing very shallow. "I should go…"

But she didn't move—and, as she gazed up at him with those gorgeous hazel eyes, Will was stunned to realize that, this time, she didn't want to.


	16. Reality Check

**Chapter Sixteen: Reality Check**

"All I've been thinking about since you came down here is how much I want to kiss you."

Keira froze when she heard the words, then stared at Will to make sure she had heard him right. She had: he was watching her nervously, his eyes scanning hers for any sign of a response. She was reminded of the summer before college, of the day he had finally managed to ask her out—something she had been expecting him to do for over a month.

Back then, it had been so easy. So easy for her to grin, ask, "What took you so long?" and proceed to make out with him for hours on his couch. But how could she do the same thing now? They were coworkers. She was in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Spike, one that she was never going to tell Will about. Her breasts were covered in scar tissue. She would have to lie about everything all over again. Brian was upstairs. She couldn't.

Instead of those and similar rational thoughts, which should have been foremost in her brain, Keira found herself mostly thinking about how blue Will's eyes were up close, and how she kind of really wanted to fuck him (so, yeah, maybe she had come downstairs in those short shorts just to get a reaction out of him, in case it wasn't obvious enough that she had terrible judgment when it came to Will McKnight), and how he was already, conveniently, halfway undressed.

The rational thoughts made one last attempt to stop her; she remembered that she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt for a reason.

"I should…" she murmured weakly, hardly aware of what she was saying. "I should go…"

This was the part where she was supposed to leave her ex-boyfriend alone on the bed and take care of business herself—because, yes, she was aroused enough at this point where that would be necessary—but her legs chose that moment to feel a bit wobbly, and she didn't trust them enough to get up.

In the end, it was all the encouragement Will needed to lean forward and kiss her.

Those rational thoughts vanished in a cocaine heartbeat as Keira responded to the kiss, her body melting against his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He tasted just the way she had remembered, a taste that was uniquely Will; and she was suddenly overcome by an insatiable hunger, a culmination of all the years she hadn't even realized she was starving. She leaned into him, trembling, needing more. Needing him.

Will, in an unexpected display of aggression that he had never shown in college, paused just long enough to shove the blanket off of his lap before pulling Keira down onto the bed. She lay there, lips parted in astonishment, her chest rising and falling unsteadily; and he stared down at her, his eyes taking in every last detail. She felt as if she were naked under his gaze, and she surprised herself by blushing.

"You're beautiful," Will whispered.

Without thinking, she replied, "I love you."

Will had been about to kiss her. He abruptly stopped, his face mere inches from hers, and looked at her in amazement. Keira didn't say anything else; she didn't have to, and he knew it. They both knew it. She loved him, and he loved her, and it was nothing that words could ever explain.

His shoulders sagged with relief. "I love you, too," he murmured, and pressed his lips softly against hers.

Keira gave a sigh of contentment as he slid on top of her, his warm weight pushing her gently into the mattress. This was where she belonged; this was where she was safe. She kissed him back, so happy that she thought her heart would burst, drawing him into her so that there was as little space between their bodies as possible. She couldn't believe how right this was.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered in between kisses, his eyes dark with lust. She hadn't seen him this close to losing control in years.

"And you're really fucking hot," she replied breathlessly, purposefully grinding her hips against his. She was rewarded with a low groan that vibrated against her chest. "Pardon my French."

He laughed and responded with a crushing kiss, one that was sure to leave bruises. Keira was more than happy to shut up and give him some marks of his own—she wasn't going to be the only one blushing at her reflection in the morning. _Jason__'__s __supposed __to __come __home __tomorrow _was a fleeting thought, one that she quickly banished.

She began exploring him: reacquainting herself with the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips, gently running her hands over the contours of his body, seeking out the familiar places on a map she had once known so well. His muscles, bigger than she remembered, quivered at her every touch. His skin tingled at her caresses, creating a rippling effect that sent dozens of electrical pulses back to her. They were both catching fire.

"You've been working out," Keira murmured, when his lips wandered to her throat and she could breathe again. "I—It's—mm…" Will had remembered where her sensitive spot was, and she forgot how to form a coherent sentence.

"So have you," Will replied, visibly enjoying the sight of her squirming. "Your legs…"

Keira grinned. "You're really into my legs, aren't you," she said mischievously. Unable to resist the temptation, she hooked her bare calves around his own and slowly drew them up, purposefully taking her time so that he had no choice but to feel every inch of her smooth skin. (She may or may not have had Will on her mind when she shaved earlier that evening.)

"That's not fair," Will muttered in a strangled sort of voice. His boxers were straining at her shorts.

"Having trouble concentrating?" Keira inquired innocently. "Here, let me make things easier for you."

That was all the warning she gave him before she flipped them over, silently thanking the karate instructor who had taught her that particular maneuver, and pinned him to the bed beneath her. _Oh __God __what __if __Brian __comes __downstairs__—__oh, __wow, __Will __looks __really __good __like __that__—__shit, __I__'__m __the __worst __babysitter __ever__—__mm, __Will __has __amazing __abs__…_

Impulsively, she slid further down his legs and bent to kiss his stomach. She charted a northward course, slowly working her way back up to his lips, all the while fighting the sudden urge to yank off his boxers and take him completely in her mouth. To give him the best orgasm he'd ever had in his life. To fuck him senseless, fall asleep in his arms, and then wake up and do it all again.

_Whoa, __Keira, __not __so __fast,_ she told herself, alarmed… but now Will was stroking her legs, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to her inner thighs, and she was as good as putty in his hands.

"Keep doing that," she whispered, half-begging.

Will grinned. "Now who's the one having trouble concentrating?" One of his hands reached up to gently tuck a dark lock behind her ear.

"Wait, no, I told you not to stop," she complained.

"You're so demanding sometimes, you know that?" Will asked cheerfully. "And beautiful when you're frustrated," he added, leaning forward to kiss her.

She was smiling as their lips met. This was amazing—better than it had ever been in college. Work and Brian and Jim and logic were miles away, leaving her and Will alone in the world. God, she loved him. What had she been thinking, going this long without him?

The answer to her question came a second later, when Will's hands slid under her shirt and grazed the first layer of burns. Had he dumped a bucket of ice cold water over her, it would not have achieved a more sobering effect.

"No, no, Will, stop," she choked out, pushing his hands away just as his eyes started to narrow in bewilderment. "Don't do that."

Will immediately backed off—as well as he could, anyway, when she was on top of him—and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I-I'm sorry," he replied, blinking in confusion. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you? Too much, too soon?"

"Will, we can't do this," Keira said, gasping for air. "There's work—a-and Brian, he's upstairs—oh, God, Parker would kill us—" She slid off of Will's lap, wondering what the hell she had been thinking. More like, hadn't been thinking.

"Wait," Will ordered, catching her by the arm.

Keira wrenched herself out of his grasp and hissed, "Don't touch me!"

Will was stunned into silence, and only then did she realize that she had been thinking of someone else. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, embarrassed. "I-I didn't mean—"

"No, I get it," Will said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. You're right."

"Will, it's not you—" Keira began, frustrated with herself—and him, too, but mostly with herself—for his lack of understanding.

"'It's me,' right?" Will finished, grimacing. "Was that what it was last time?"

"Yes, it was," Keira insisted, choking on the tears that had suddenly ambushed her. "It had _nothing_ to do with you, Will—and I know you don't believe it, but believe this: I loved you then, and I love you now, but it's not going to work between us. I'm sorry, but it won't."

It was too late to stop the tears from flowing down her face; Will had already seen them, though judging by his astonished expression he had no idea why she was crying. Mortified, furious with herself, and hating the fact that Will was finally back in her life and she still couldn't be with him, Keira pushed off of the bed and ran from the room.

Ten minutes later, when she brought herself to an unsatisfying orgasm, the tears were still drying on her cheeks.

* * *

><p>"So," Jason said to Keira the following night, Will long gone and Brian fast asleep upstairs, "how did things go with Will?"<p>

"He seemed completely worn out by the time we came back," Allie contributed teasingly, sitting down at the kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. "I hope Brian didn't give him too much trouble?"

"No, he was great with Brian," Keira assured her, swallowing the sigh that had threatened to slip through her swollen lips. "They bonded over Disney movies."

"How did the two of you get along?" Jason asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine," Keira told him, hoping he wouldn't press the issue. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Will McKnight.

Jason wasn't buying it. "Keira, you can pull that on just about anyone, but 'fine' doesn't work on me," he said sharply. "Did something happen?"

Allie remained quiet, though her blue eyes were narrowed in confusion. Jason had told her, long ago, about their family history, so she knew that Keira had all but lived at Will's house in order to avoid going home. She also knew that the two of them had dated briefly in college, but Jason had never mentioned why they had broken up—not when Keira was so determined to keep it a distant memory.

"Nothing happened," Keira said unconvincingly.

"Did you get in a fight?" Jason immediately demanded, leaning forward.

"No, nothing like that," Keira answered, shaking her head. With a bitter smile, she muttered, "I just screwed everything up, like always."

Jason didn't say anything; he merely waited for her to continue, his warm brown eyes full of concern.

Keira really didn't want to recount the whole sordid story, but a significant part of her felt guilty for practically having sex with Will while her nephew was sleeping just upstairs. Not that Brian ever left his bed—he was an unusually good sleeper—yet he could have easily wandered downstairs and seen them doing something that any other babysitter would have gotten fired for. All things considered, she felt obligated to tell Jason what had happened.

"Will and I started talking after Brian went to bed," she finally spoke, sighing. "I didn't—I didn't tell him anything, but he told me… Well, he basically said that he still loved me."

When she didn't elaborate, Jason raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's news," he remarked.

"Well, it's been awhile," Keira retorted, her cheeks heating up. "He should hate me for what I did to him."

Jason shook his head. "Keira, the guy was head over heels in love with you when you were kids. I knew the second he walked through our door on Friday that that hadn't changed a bit."

Keira didn't know what to say to that; luckily, Allie broke the silence. "What did you say back to him?" she inquired curiously.

Keira winced. "I kind of… didn't say anything," she admitted, hoping that Jason wouldn't kill her when she told him what she had almost done on his couch. "Because one thing led to another, and… I fucked up and let him kiss me."

Jason drew in a long breath. "The two of you are coworkers—you can't do that," he gently reminded her, though without a hint of judgment in his voice.

"I know," Keira groaned. "I'm an idiot. And the worst part was, I didn't even think about stopping—not seriously, anyway—until he…" Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"Until he what?" Jason prodded after a long pause.

"He started putting his hand under my shirt," Keira confessed, now looking anywhere but at her brother and her sister-in-law. "I could feel him… I could feel him touch the first burns, the part where… where it isn't so bad as the rest. A-And I couldn't… I couldn't let him… so I told him to stop. But I couldn't… I couldn't tell him why, even though I think he noticed something wasn't right with my stomach…" She was finding it difficult to speak around the lump in her throat.

"Maybe it's time to come clean with him," Jason suggested quietly, voicing an opinion he had often shared with her—to no avail.

Keira was already shaking her head. "I don't want to tell him anything about Jim. Not happening."

"Why not?" Jason asked, leaning forward. "You don't always have to keep it to yourself. You don't have to be alone."

"I'm not alone," Keira protested, cringing. "I have you."

"Yes, but don't you think it'd be easier to tell him?" Jason pressed. "Will cares about you. A lot. That won't stop if you tell him what happened when we were younger. You keep doing this, Keira—bottling it up inside you, when I know you're angry. I know you're pissed. God knows how you passed the psych exam to become a police officer. Don't you want to talk about it? Even just a little?"

"No, actually, I don't," Keira said coldly. "That's how you've dealt with it, and I respect that, but I'm not going to tell Will about all the times that fucking asshole hit us. Or the times he…" She broke off, forced the words back down her throat, and began again in a calmer voice. "I'm not going to tell Will, or anyone. It's just easier that way."

"Do you really believe that?" Jason asked her quietly, his steady gaze meeting hers.

"Yes," Keira replied stiffly. "I do."


	17. Outed

**A/N:** Sorry for taking so long with this update! I've been studying for finals and writing way too many papers and oh my God will it ever stop. (It will! On Tuesday! Prayer circle for me to make it through, etc.) Anyway, I'm actually kind of glad I took a break from this, because while I did I was able to figure out a ton of things, plot-wise! So, excitement.

Also, last week's episode ("Blue on Blue") was AMAZING. Seriously, Sergio Di Zio needs all the awards. His speech at the end to the subject was pure flawlessness. I don't really know what's going on with him and Natalie anymore, but I hope we see more of her. I really want fic where Sam is totally awkward about their relationship and, like, crashes their date or something and then Spike (or Natalie) gets back at him by ruining one of his dates with Jules, so, um, if anyone could point me in the direction of something like that - or anything involving the four of them, really - you'll make me a very happy person. ;)

Um... Wow, that went off into a bit of a tangent. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Outed<strong>

Spike was in a very, very good mood. With no calls to take, Team One had spent the day training—and he had just posted some of his best scores at the shooting range. He had also beaten Lou, something which always came with bragging rights. Until the next day, anyway. Plus, his mom had made amazing lasagna the night before, so he had gotten to eat the leftovers for lunch.

"I'm thinking we should hit the bar tonight," he told Lou while they were in the locker room, changing back into their civilian clothes. "You, me, Will, and Keira. Young people night."

Lou wrinkled his nose. "Keira's not exactly fun to go to a bar with," he pointed out. "Why not Sam? We'll make it a guys' night."

Spike shook his head. "Sam's busy, I already asked. Same with Jules."

"Then let's just go with Will," Lou replied, pulling his shirt on.

"What's wrong with Keira?" Spike asked in surprise, feeling some of his good mood ebb away.

Lou sighed. "Look, I know you're friends with her," he began, tugging on his shirt, "but trying to have a conversation with her is like pulling out someone's teeth. I don't get why she keeps going out with us, when she doesn't drink and isn't interested in meeting people."

"She just doesn't like talking about herself," Spike defended his friend. "That doesn't mean you can't find something else to talk about. Once you get to know her—"

"See, that's the thing. I can't," Lou answered, frowning as he closed his locker. "I have no idea how you managed to get on her good side, but the one time I tried to 'get to know her' the only thing she said to me was, 'Why do you need to know anything about my family?'" His voice rose as he mimicked Keira's admittedly harsh tone. "All I did was ask her where she grew up and what her folks were like."

Just then, Spike's cell phone—which he had carelessly tossed onto the bench and which had since gotten mixed up with Lou's belongings—started buzzing. Still in the process of dressing himself, Spike ignored it.

"It's Will," Lou reported, leaning over to look. "Want me to ask him to join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Spike agreed, fiddling with his belt buckle. "Shouldn't he be in here with us?"

"I think he said something about wanting to use the treadmill," Lou answered, his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he composed the text. "Damn it, Spike, your phone sucks. None of the keys are in the right place."

"Yeah, that's because they've moved things around since 1999, or whatever prehistoric age _your_ phone's from," Spike retorted with a grin, rummaging around in his locker for a clean shirt.

Lou didn't reply, and Spike smirked: obviously, he hadn't been able to think of a comeback.

"Uh, Spike?"

"Yeah?" Spike asked, emerging from his locker with a decent shirt.

"You got a text from Keira while I was replying to Will, and I accidentally opened it…"

"Yeah? What did it say?" Spike inquired, wondering if he could kidnap Lou's phone and exchange it in for something that belonged to this century.

Lou cleared his throat. "'Still sore from last night,'" he read. "Winking face."

Spike froze.

"'Wondering if you've got any plans for tomorrow. Thought we could try your new toy again,'" Lou continued, looking as if he couldn't believe what he was reading. "Winking face."

"That's… not what it sounds like," Spike said, his face redder than the tomato sauce in his mom's lasagna.

"Really? Because it sounds like you're screwing her. With a toy," Lou replied, staring at him. "Please tell me this is some kind of joke."

Spike tried to snatch the phone out of Lou's grasp, but Lou quickly twisted out of reach. "Explain," he ordered.

"It's nothing serious," Spike protested. "Just give me back my phone."

"You know there's a reason why you're not supposed to be in a relationship with someone on the team?" Lou demanded. "Parker's going to kill you if he finds out."

"Lou, buddy, please don't tell him," Spike begged. If Parker found out, he'd have to get in line behind Keira. "We're not seeing each other, I swear."

"Just sleeping with each other," Lou said, raising his eyebrows. "And using sex toys."

"Friends with benefits," Spike countered.

"Seriously?" Lou asked. "With _Keira_?"

"Yes," Spike muttered, wishing he could sink right into the ground and never have to look Lou in the face again.

"Keira _Ford_?"

"Yes, okay?" Spike snapped. "It's not that big a deal, people do it all the time."

"But why _her_?"

"Why not?" Spike asked, making another bid for his cell phone. Lou held it out of his grasp.

"Because how the hell does _friends_ come into it when she's one of the least friendly people I've ever met?" he offered. "What do you guys even have to talk about?"

"She's actually really fun to hang out with," Spike insisted. _And amazing_ _in bed,_ he thought; but, not one for typical locker room chat, he kept quiet about that part. "I don't know, we usually wind up playing Mario Kart or talking about work."

Lou gave him a half-amused, half-disgusted look that read: _Mario Kart? Really?_

"Nothing wrong with Mario!" Spike exclaimed. "He's one of my people, you know."

"Is this before or after you use sex toys?" Lou snickered, looking as if he had tried to hold the question in but had been unable to restrain himself.

"Who uses sex toys?"

Just when Spike thought he couldn't be any more humiliated, he was proven spectacularly wrong by Ed Lane appearing in the locker room and raising a speculative eyebrow at the two officers.

"Spike?" he asked, seeing Spike's swiftly coloring features. "You're into that sort of thing?"

In his defense, Spike had only bought the vibrator because he had read online that girls loved it. And, also in his defense, apparently they did. Well, at least Keira did. Normally she was quiet, but last night he had actually been afraid that his parents would hear them two floors up.

"Hey," Ed said, trying and failing to smother a grin, "I'm not going to judge."

Spike did the only sensible thing he could do at that point: he yanked his shirt on, gathered his things together, shut his locker door, and announced, "I'm leaving now."

He was so flustered as he marched past a smirking Ed and out of the locker room that he completely forgot Lou still had his cell phone—nor did he remember until he heard running footsteps behind him and the sound of his name being called.

"Spike! Hey, Spike, wait up!"

Spike reluctantly slowed and turned around to see Lou behind him, waving his treacherous cell phone in the air. "You forgot this," Lou said, pressing it into Spike's hand.

"Lou, please don't tell Ed. Or Parker," Spike muttered weakly, taking back the phone. "We're just sleeping together, I swear. Neither of us wants a relationship with each other. It hasn't affected our job performance at all, and it's not going to."

Lou hesitated, then asked, "How long have you guys been…?"

"About nine months," Spike admitted.

"Nine _months_?" Lou repeated, gaping at him. "How did I not notice?"

"Keira would have killed me if I told you," Spike pointed out. "Like, actually killed me. Like, hunted me down and murdered me in my sleep killed me." He was pretty sure she had used fairly similar wording at one point or another. "And we figured it'd be better to keep it a secret anyway, since the boss probably wouldn't understand the whole 'friends with benefits' thing… too old for that, you know?"

"Well," Lou said, sighing, "you're right: it hasn't affected your job performance."

"Does this mean you won't tell?" Spike asked quietly, holding his breath.

Lou sighed again, then nodded. "I won't say anything," he promised, much to Spike's relief. "Just… tell her not to text you at work, okay? If that had been Ed with you instead of me…"

"I'd have been fired by now," Spike finished grimly.

Lou shook his head. "No," he replied: "she'd have been fired. Don't let another mistake happen, Spike, or she's not going to be around for long."

He turned around and headed back to the locker rooms, leaving Spike to start going through his cell phone and delete every single text from Keira.

As an afterthought, he then changed her name in his contact list to Jane Smith.

* * *

><p>"Is it—just me—or—have you—mm, keep doing that—been really—<em>mm<em>—horny—lately?"

Keira looked up at Spike and raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to finish this blow job or not?" she asked in amusement. "I can't exactly carry on a conversation like this—"

Spike groaned and impatiently motioned for her to continue. Keira licked her lips, which now tasted like cherry flavoring, and bent down to resume her work. Even Spike couldn't talk very much when he was on the receiving end of oral sex; for the next several minutes, the only sounds Keira heard from him were contented moans and strangled gasps. When he arched upwards and clenched the sheets, she grinned and discarded the condom.

"I mean it, though," Spike said, panting heavily. Keira rolled her eyes at his persistence, though not unkindly. "Normally you're only over here once a week, but this is the third time in five days. Not that I'm complaining," he hastened to assure her; "I'm just curious."

Keira shrugged. "No reason," she replied. "None that I can think of, anyway."

She didn't mention that it was Will's tenure as her co-babysitter, even though it had been more than two weeks since then, that had made her so (as Spike put it) "horny." At least, she was pretty sure that was the case, given the fact that lately she had had to stop herself from imagining Will in Spike's place.

"And, even if you did have a reason," Spike pointed out, "you wouldn't tell me."

"I thought you said you weren't complaining?" Keira asked innocently, her fingers ghosting down Spike's chest and gently teasing him between his legs.

"Hey," he said, swatting her hand away. "It's my turn to get you off."

"You make it sound so romantic," she replied, laughing—but she couldn't deny that the way he had told her, completely matter-of-factly, that he was going to make her orgasm… well, a certain part of her body definitely had a response to that. "Can you use the vibrator again? That thing was amazing."

Spike, who had been chuckling, abruptly stiffened—in all the wrong places.

"What is it?" Keira asked, pulling back.

"I kind of forgot to tell you something really important please don't hate me," Spike said in a rush.

"That depends on what you forgot to tell me…" Keira answered suspiciously. "Did you start seeing someone?"

When they had first started sleeping with each other, they had known that they weren't going to be exclusive—but they had agreed to give the other person a heads-up in the event that things were likely to become serious with someone else. This mostly meant a handful of three-week dry spells for Keira, because it was always Spike who started to date another girl; it had been years since Keira had gone out more than once with the same guy.

"No, not that," Spike told her, easing a small knot of tension within her stomach. She had gotten used to having him available for no-strings attached sex—perhaps too used to the convenience—and she hadn't wanted to start flying solo again.

"What, then?" she asked, bewildered as to what else could be so pressing.

Spike drew in a sharp breath. "Lou found out about us yesterday," he admitted.

Keira shot up from her reclining position. "He _what_?" she demanded, her pulse racing.

"You sent me a text while he had my phone," Spike muttered, visibly alarmed by her reaction. "He, uh, read it… it was the one where, uh, you mentioned the vibrator…"

Keira's cheeks colored as she recalled the text in question. "I take it that's why you never responded?" she asked nonchalantly, though inside her heart was hammering wildly against her ribcage. It wasn't so much Lou discovering that she and Spike were into experimenting—although that was definitely embarrassing—as it was the possibility that, if Lou knew, he might tell someone else… someone like Will… or their boss, for that matter.

"I deleted all of your texts from my phone," Spike explained, looking relieved now that she wasn't yelling, "and then I went out for drinks with Will and I kind of drank too much and forgot…"

"Does Will know?" Keira interrogated him, feeling sick. Will wouldn't understand at all. To Will, sex was something reserved for deeply committed relationships—and if he found out that she was sleeping with Spike, he would get all the wrong impressions.

"No, no, he has no idea," Spike tried to assure her, though this did nothing but achieve the opposite effect intended. "Lou's not going to tell anyone, I made him promise."

"He better not," Keira growled. "I'll kill him."

"He won't," Spike said patiently. "The only thing is"—again, he looked chagrined—"well, Ed kind of heard the tail end of our conversation and now he knows that I used a sex toy with someone, but he doesn't know who it was…"

"Are you kidding me?" Keira hissed. Between this mishap and the tarantula, she was about ready to throttle Spike. "How the hell did this happen? Until yesterday, we'd been doing this for months and no one had any idea—and now two people know about our sex life?"

"Keira, I'm really sorry," Spike apologized. "I swear, it was an accident. And Ed doesn't know that you're involved, he just gave me a hard time about the sex toy thing."

"Great," Keira sarcastically remarked, reaching for her underwear. "Really fucking wonderful." If either Lou or Ed made so much as one suggestive remark around Will…

"You're leaving?" Spike asked, his eyes widening.

"Not in the mood for sex anymore," Keira muttered, slipping off the bed and wriggling back into her lingerie.

"Is this really that big of a deal?" Spike questioned, his forehead wrinkling.

"_Yes_, it is," Keira ground out, yanking on her shirt. "I _hate_ it when people get involved in my personal life. It's none of their business."

"Hey," Spike said, catching her by the wrist before she could grasp her jeans, "what's this really about?"

"Let go of me," Keira snarled, instinctively reacting as the memories began to close in on her. "Spike, I'm not kidding, let go—" But Spike had already released her, and she stumbled as she needlessly wrenched her arm back.

"What's going on?" Spike asked quietly, watching as she recovered and hastily pulled her jeans on.

"Nothing," Keira replied, stuffing her feet into her boots as quickly as she could. "I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

"Can I walk you out?" Spike queried, trying to scramble for his own clothes.

Keira shook her head. "Don't bother," she said irritably. "I'll talk to you later."

She left Spike, half-naked and completely bewildered, alone in the basement without another word.


	18. Bad Vibrations

**Chapter Eighteen: Bad Vibrations**

Three days later, Keira was back at Spike's place.

She had originally intended to hold out longer, but that was before he sent her an adorable apology text that ended with "Please don't be mad, I'll grovel and do lots of sexual favors if you'll just be nice to me." Combined with the fact that Spike was one of those people against whom it was nearly impossible to hold a grudge, and with the added bonus of Lou only smirking once at her, she was inclined to be generous.

However, "I fully intend to cash in on those sexual favors," she texted back.

Which was precisely what she was doing that Friday night: lying on Spike's bed, her legs spread shamelessly, writhing in ecstasy as Spike's tongue worked its magic between her thighs. She wasn't much of a moaner—she used to be in high school, before realizing that she didn't really give a damn if a guy's feelings were hurt because he hadn't rocked her world—but she was definitely gasping, her breathing shallow and labored.

Then Spike's tongue flicked, once, twice, three times just where she was most sensitive, and she cried out as her muscles spasmed and her limbs trembled. Spike continued licking, though less rapidly, as a series of aftershocks made her sigh in delight.

"That was good," she murmured when at last she could breathe again. Now that they were done, she could hear the Mario Party 3 game that had been playing in the background the entire time in case one of Spike's parents went down to the first floor for whatever reason. As annoying as the music was, it was also pretty catchy, and she sometimes found herself humming it at random intervals throughout the day.

"Just good?" Spike asked indignantly. "You came in five minutes and thirty-one seconds. I counted."

"Very good," Keira amended, grinning. Then she paused. "Did you really count?"

Spike chose not to answer that. "I'm glad you accepted my offer of groveling," he replied instead, heaving himself up to lie beside her.

"It was mostly the promise of sexual favors that did it," Keira teased him. "Seriously, though…" She bit her lip, then forged on. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier," she said. "What happened wasn't your fault—I should have made sure you were out of the locker room before I texted. I… I guess I overreacted."

Spike shook his head. "I probably would have done the same thing, in your position. Maybe in a more passive-aggressive way. At least you were upfront about it."

"I don't have a problem letting people know when I hate their guts," Keira joked.

"No kidding," Spike muttered, before propping himself up on his elbow and looking speculatively at her. "Speaking of apologies, do you think that woman forgave her husband for what he did to the Chileans?"

Earlier that night, they had been assigned security detail at a four-star hotel in Toronto—only to have it turn into a hostage situation when the female client was kidnapped and found with a new piece of jewelry: a necklace bomb. The perpetrators had wanted to blackmail her husband into confessing his role in the deaths of three men who had protested the opening of his copper mine; and the husband had done it, admitting in front of the guests at his own party that he had authorized the men's "disappearances."

"I don't know," Keira said thoughtfully, wondering the same. "When you got her out of the necklace bomb, she seemed too relieved that they were both still alive to care."

Spike shifted, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "I noticed Will checking you out after," he casually remarked.

Keira snorted, hopefully with enough bravado to cover up the fact that she suddenly felt like a troupe of dancing butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. "What are you talking about?" she asked, injecting an appropriate amount of scorn into her voice.

"Let's just say that he was enjoying the outfit you put on before you came here," Spike answered, grinning.

Keira looked down at herself, at the rather clingy shirt she was still wearing. She hadn't gotten around to taking it off yet, mostly because Spike had all but pounced on her the second she was on his bed. "It wasn't that bad," she muttered, trying not to imagine Will thinking about her like that. If she did, then she'd remember their almost-hookup on her brother's couch…

She forced herself to pay attention to Spike as he smirked and replied, "You're just lucky Greg and Ed were gone by the time you came out, otherwise they would have started asking you questions… you know, _personal_ questions. Like, if you had a date or something. I could tell that Will wanted to."

"Well, he didn't say anything to me," Keira responded, thinking back to their goodbye at the end of the shift. It had been short; they had both made generic comments like _glad no one was hurt_ and _thank God that bomb didn't go off_; and then he had muttered something about going to visit friends and she, well, she had probably made up some excuse involving Brian.

"So, what's your status with him right now?" Spike asked breezily, folding his arms behind his head. "Mortal enemies, cordial strangers, best friends, or what? Because the two of you were, like, completely avoiding each other last week, and now you're apparently sort of back to being friends?"

"Spike, I don't even know what the hell you're talking about," Keira said dismissively, though he was a lot closer to the truth than she cared to admit. Out of sheer embarrassment, she and Will had done their best to stay away from each other during work—something very difficult when work required sparring practice and various additional drills that they always seemed to be paired together for. Their interactions were slowly becoming less tense, due more to the passing of time than anything, but by no means had they returned to what they once were.

"That's bull—" Spike began, but Keira cut him off.

"How about, instead of talking, you get to work on one of those other favors you promised me," she suggested cheekily.

Spike didn't move. "Keira," he said, a trace of awkwardness in his voice, "you know you can—you can talk to me about… about things, right, and I won't judge you or any of that?"

Keira stared at him in confusion, having no idea what had prompted this declaration.

"Look," Spike continued, sighing: "I've known you for about two years at this point. I consider you a friend, and I like helping my friends. But you, you're always keeping secrets from everyone. Even Will, whom you grew up with for Christ's sake, doesn't know that much about you—not the important stuff, anyway."

"Spike—"

"I'm not saying you have to tell everyone your life story, but sometimes it's a lot better to talk about… whatever it is you're so determined to hide, than to let it, you know, eat you up inside." Spike was overloading on the hand gestures, a sure sign of his discomfort, as he tried to explain. "Otherwise, you're just going to get more defensive and more bitter, and I don't want to see that happen to you."

Keira gave him a small smile, but inwardly she was thinking of how easy it was for him to say that. It was bad enough just remembering all of the shit that had happened to her while growing up; she couldn't begin to imagine how awful it would be to have to tell someone, someone who wouldn't understand in the slightest. And, though she knew none of it was her fault, it was still mortifying to discuss—even with Jason, who had experienced almost all of it in his turn.

"Spike," she began carefully, not wanting to hurt her friend, "I appreciate what you're saying, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. Really. I've got people to talk to."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Anyone besides Jason?" he asked pointedly.

"I'm fine," Keira repeated, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "But thank you."

Spike still looked unconvinced, so she decided to change the topic entirely. "This better not be your way of getting out of the favors you promised me," she said mischievously. "I was hoping for some vibrator action."

"You really liked that thing, didn't you?" Spike asked, his somber mood—uncharacteristic for him, anyway—starting to fade.

"Fuck, yes," Keira replied, her pulse quickening as she thought of her first foray into the realm of sex toys. She was no stranger to masturbation, but she had never used a toy—definitely not when Brian liked to prowl through her things. (It was a habit of his she had discovered when, at the age of two, he had somehow gotten into her underwear drawer and tried to dress his favorite stuffed dog with her laciest black bra). Vibrators were a whole new experience for her, and something that she greatly enjoyed when wielded by Spike's uncannily capable hands.

A thought occurred to her then, and she asked, "I hope you cleaned it?"

"What? I was only planning on doing that between girls," Spike deadpanned, reaching over to his nightstand. Keira heard him rummaging around in the drawer before he retrieved the toy, which he held out for her inspection. Yes, it was definitely clean.

"Okay," she said, grinning at him. "I'm all yours."

And, from the moment he activated the toy, she was very much all his. He knew exactly where to hold it so that she was squirming within seconds, practically purring in tandem with the faint buzzing.

"My God, I love you," she murmured at one point, along with other things that were more or less incoherent. Spike kept adjusting the settings—now quickening the pace so that she was moaning quite shamelessly, now reducing it so that she was left panting with desire—and driving her closer and closer to the brink of insanity.

"Yeah, oh my God, there—keep doing that—_fuck_—Spike—"

It was then, right when she was on the brink of another orgasm, that she opened her eyes for a brief second and hazily focused in on the stairs leading down to the basement—only to see Will McKnight standing there and watching her.

Will. In Spike's basement. Watching her. With a horrified expression on his face.

It took a moment for the sight to sink in and for her to realize that it wasn't some kind of sick, twisted nightmare.

"Will!" she gasped, scrambling away from Spike and drawing her legs up to her chest.

At the sound of Will's name, Spike stiffened and whirled around—the incriminating vibrator still in his hands. Will's face contorted at the sight of it, and he turned away without a word. His rapid footsteps slapped against the cement stairs as he left them, stunned, in the basement.

It wasn't until his feet disappeared entirely that Keira reacted. "Will!" she cried, sliding off the bed.

Her only answer was the sound of the door shutting.

"Oh my God," she said, feeling as if she were about to throw up. She scanned the floor, growing panicked when she couldn't find her jeans. "Oh my God, my pants—Spike, where are my pants—oh, come on, you little pieces of shit, where the fuck are you—"

"What the hell was he doing here?" Spike asked, his face ashen.

Keira didn't answer. At last she found her jeans, wedged in a corner between the bed and the heater, and yanked them on so quickly that she was lucky they didn't end up backwards. Without bothering to find her shoes or grab her coat, she raced up the stairs and burst out onto the first floor—just in time to hear the front door close.

Heart pounding, throat dry, she bolted for the door and, after nearly missing the handle, finally succeeded in opening it.

"Will!" she yelled (neighbors be damned), seeing that he was almost at his car. "Will, _wait!_"

Will didn't wait. Instead, he ducked into his car and revved up the engine—which was when Keira, throwing caution to the wind, did something that was quite possibly one of the stupidest things she had done in years: she ran out in front of the car and raised her arms, trembling and covered in goose bumps from the cold air, before the vehicle and its furious driver.

Will immediately rolled down the window. "Keira, get out of the way!" he shouted at her, his face reddening.

"Not until we talk about this!" Keira cried back, her voice wavering. "Please, Will, just get out of the car and let me explain."

"Move!" he ordered, frustrated lines forming on his forehead.

Keira held her ground. "No," she said, fighting a familiar burning sensation in the corners of her eyes.

When Will realized that she wasn't going anywhere, he practically growled as he killed the engine and got out of the car. "There's nothing to explain," he snapped when she hastened towards him. "Everything was crystal clear from where I was standing."

"We're not—"

"You told me," Will interrupted her, his expression seething with hurt and anger, "that we couldn't be together because we were coworkers. I guess you didn't really mean that."

"Spike and I aren't—"

"How long?" he demanded. "How long have the two of you been together?"

"We're not together," Keira protested, flinching under his heated gaze. Her protests sounded feeble, even to herself.

"Don't lie to me, Keira," Will said quietly, the disappointment in his voice more than she could bear. "How long?" he repeated.

"Almost a year," she whispered, the tears finally spilling over.

For a long, awful moment, Will didn't speak; he simply watched her cry, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "God, I'm such an idiot," he finally said, shaking his head in disgust. "I thought… I can't believe I thought we still had something."

"But we do," Keira choked out, desperate for him to stop looking at her like that. "We just can't—"

Will was shaking his head. "No," he replied bitterly; "we don't. What we have is me waiting for you for _years_—whether it was for you to confide in me once in a while when we were growing up, or just to reappear in my life after you dropped out of it without bothering to give an explanation—and you always keeping me in the dark, never mind the fact that I love you and would do anything to help you if you would just _tell_ me what's going on. That's why I've put up with it for so long," he said, his ragged breathing echoing painfully in her ears, "because I _love_ you—more than any reasonable person would after what you've done. But, obviously, you've moved on and found someone else."

"Spike and I aren't—" Keira began, a knot in her stomach telling her, even before she spoke, that it was useless.

"Don't," Will cut her off, sounding more tired than anything. "Just give him this, okay?" He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thin black wallet. "I found it in my glove compartment today. Those friends I was visiting live around here, so I thought I'd swing by."

"Will…" Keira said, unable to bring herself to accept the wallet. She knew that if she did, it was over. "Will, please—" She couldn't find the words to tell him that he had gotten it all wrong, that she wasn't in love with Spike and never would be; not when being in love, when _really_ being in love, was what being with Will meant. She couldn't bring herself to tell him—even now, even when everything depended on it—why she had never confided in him, why she had dropped out of his life. She wasn't ready. Maybe she would never be. And though she had always counted on Will to be there, waiting, she should have known better: he was human, not a puppy dog who would trail faithfully after her to the end.

There was nothing for her to do but numbly reach forward and take the wallet.

"Don't bother, Keira," Will said wearily when he saw her open her mouth. "I love you, but I can't do this anymore."

"Will, please, don't go," Keira begged as he turned around and started walking towards his car. "Will—Will, please, just listen—"

But, for once, he didn't. Instead, she was the one who listened: to his heavy footsteps, to the car door opening; and then, when too late she stumbled after him, to the sound of the engine starting. Without so much as a look at her, he floored the gas pedal and sped off down the road. In seconds, he had turned a corner and was gone.

Keira stood there, trembling in disbelief. Will had just left her. For the first time in her life, Will had just left her.

When it finally sank in, the weight of it brought her to her knees. Hunched over on the cold pavement, she buried her face in her hands and started sobbing.

"Woah, hey," she heard a moment later, accompanied by a familiar arm wrapping around her shoulders. "Let's get you off the street," Spike said, gently squeezing her. "Come on, I don't want you to get run over by a car."

Keira allowed him to haul her up on her feet—somewhere in the process, she gave him his wallet—and reluctantly followed him off the road. "H-How long h-have you b-been here?" she asked shakily, collapsing onto his porch.

"Long enough," Spike answered quietly, his eyes studying her closely. "Are you all right?"

Keira shook her head, trying futilely to wipe her face.

There was a long pause before Spike said, "You love him, don't you."

"Yes," Keira admitted, succumbing to a fresh wave of tears. "You have no idea how much… and neither does he," she added miserably.

Spike was kind enough not to mention their job. "I'm sorry," he replied simply. "I knew I should have gotten that lock fixed."

She was crying too hard to respond.

"Hey," Spike murmured, "it's going to be all right."

Keira didn't have the strength to tell him otherwise; instead, she just let him hold her tighter as she wept and wept.


	19. Keira Ford Is a Fucking Bitch

**Chapter Nineteen: Keira Ford is a Fucking Bitch**

The rest of the weekend was a blur of phone calls, voice mails, and text messages—each left in varying stages of desperation—that Will never returned. Spike gave up Saturday afternoon, but Keira tearfully confessed to him on Sunday evening that she had called Will ten times in the past hour alone. "He didn't pick up at all," she choked out, unable to disguise the fact that she was crying into the receiver. "And I know he's home, because the Canucks are playing and he never misses one of their games."

Yet even when the three of them returned to work on Monday, and were therefore stuck in the same building for a ten-hour shift, Will proved astonishingly adept at avoiding both of them. He was in and out of the locker room before Spike even noticed his arrival, and every subsequent attempt at conversation was politely—yet firmly—rebuffed. Keira's endeavors met with a similar fate, and there was only so much either of them could do about it when they were surrounded by coworkers. Spike watched helplessly as Keira grew increasingly upset throughout the drills, though she did her best to hide it. At one point she slipped off to the bathroom and returned with puffy, swollen eyelids.

"Allergies," he heard her mutter when Greg made a concerned inquiry.

Greg's response seemed deliberately casual. "I didn't know you had allergies."

"Hey, boss, did you catch the Canucks game last night?" Spike asked loudly. The question earned him a couple of odd looks, but it allowed Keira to escape.

By the time Keira had to take a second "bathroom" break, Spike was officially determined to corner Will and make him listen to their side of the story. Or punch him, one of the two. The fact that he wasn't able to succeed until the late afternoon was a mark of how equally determined Will was to keep his distance, which didn't exactly do wonders for Spike's temper.

Finally, Will headed to the locker room to retrieve his workout gloves. Spike waited for a moment and then followed suit, arriving just as Will was leaving.

"Why don't you go back in there and we can talk," Spike suggested, blocking Will's path.

Will's eyes flashed with anger, but his tone was wooden as he replied, "I don't think now is—"

"I said, why don't you go back in there and we can talk," Spike repeated.

They stood there for a moment, neither of them moving, until finally Will sighed and headed back into the locker room. "There's nothing to talk about," he said.

Spike took a deep breath, reminding himself that Keira wasn't the only one in love with someone she couldn't have. As his gaze lingered on the slump in Will's shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes, he found himself wondering what he would have done in the other man's position—if he would have responded to any of those phone calls or texts. Probably not, he realized guiltily.

"Look," he began, in a far gentler tone than he had originally intended on using, "I'm not going to deny what was happening when you walked in on us last Friday. But I just wanted to explain—"

"I'm familiar with how sex works," Will remarked dryly.

"Keira and I aren't dating," Spike continued, ignoring Will's comment, "and we never have. We're friends with benefits."

"You expect me to believe that?" Will retorted, before sighing and shaking his head. "You know what? Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's none of my business what you guys are doing, and I don't really care as long as it's not affecting the team."

Spike snorted. Will _sucked_ at lying. "Bullshit," he said. "I know you're still in love with her. And I think you know she's still in love with you." _I shouldn't be saying any of this, _he thought. Except their conversation—hell, this whole situation—was already violating the SRU codebook in about a million different ways. What was another broken rule at this point?

Will gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah? She's got an interesting way of showing it."

"What do you expect her to do?" Spike couldn't help but ask. "You're coworkers. You can't date."

"That's funny," Will said, his jaw tightening. "I don't see that stopping the two of you."

Spike forced himself to imagine what Keira's reaction would be if he smacked Will, and even then he barely managed to hold back. "We're not dating," he intoned through gritted teeth.

"Look, I'm not stupid—"

"You sure sound like you are," Spike snapped, losing his patience. "I don't know what I have to do to convince you that Keira and I are just_ friends_ who happen to sleep together. We literally play Mario Kart and fuck each other after, and that's _it_."

He regretted the words as soon as they formed in his mouth, but it was too late. He could have announced that they wined and dined before making passionate love and falling asleep in each other's arms, and the expression on Will's face wouldn't have been any worse than it was now. For a long moment, he didn't speak; he just stared at Spike, as if he'd never seen him before today.

"Shit, I'm sorry—I didn't mean for it to come out like that…" Spike scrambled to repair the damage, but he was only digging himself further into the hole. If Will had entertained any hopes of Keira not being in a relationship, they were now gone—but there was no hatred in his eyes. Just tiredness.

"Forget it," Will said quietly, rising to his feet. Spike moved to prevent him from leaving, but something about the other man's expression made him think better of it. "Just promise me one thing."

Spike blinked. "What?"

Will paused, his hand on the doorknob. Without looking at Spike, he said, "Take care of her. She deserves it."

And then, before Spike could even begin to come up with a reply, Will was gone.

* * *

><p>"I can't even believe it… Actually, wait, I can. Because Keira Ford is a fucking bitch."<p>

"Jess, can we not with the whole Keira-sucks thing right now?" Will wearily asked his cousin, cradling the phone to his ear while he started cutting up a pepper (and possibly pretending that it was Spike). "I'm not really in the mood—"

Jess heaved a sigh of exasperation as a longstanding disagreement was instantly revived. "Will. Honey. I love you, but you're too nice for your own good. Seriously, do I need to remind you about all the shit you've let this girl get away with? She's walking all over you!"

"It's not like that."

"Oh, yes it is. How many times in high school did you let her sorry ass sleep in your room—in your _bed_—because her parents were mad at her? I'm pretty sure you lost a girlfriend over it, too."

"You didn't see her those nights," Will insisted, remembering multiple occasions on which Keira had climbed in through his window with tears streaming down her face. "If she'd come to you like that, you'd have let her stay, too. Last I checked, the two of you used to be pretty damn close."

There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end. Will smiled sadly, knowing that even Jess couldn't disagree. She and Keira had met at Will's eighth birthday party and, likely because of their similar personalities, quickly become friends. It hadn't taken them long to remove him from the equation and start hanging out on their own, and soon Keira was nearly as permanent a fixture at the Stevens' house as she was at the McKnights'. Keira completely idolized Jess, looking up to her as the older sister she'd never had; and Jess had cheerfully taken Keira under her wing, giving her endless advice on topics ranging from clothes to makeup to guys.

(Many years into their friendship, Will had once made the mistake of asking what they talked about during their frequent sleepovers. Then in tenth grade, Keira had shot a wolfish grin at him and replied, "Let's just say that I'm now amazing at blowjobs." He'd never inquired again.)

"Yeah, well, whatever," Jess finally said. "Your parents treat her like she's part of the family, have her over for dinner every week, take her on all your vacations… and what does she do the second you're off to college? She goes all frigid bitch on you and won't do anything with you because she's 'not ready,' never mind the fact that she'd already fucked half the guys in your—"

"Leave her sex life out of it," Will snapped, familiar hackles raising. He often sorely regretted having told Jess the details of his relationship with Keira, most of which had come out in the middle of a drunken stupor on the one-month anniversary of her disappearance. This was one of those times. "It's not like I had a right to expect anything just because she'd slept with other guys before."

"And then," Jess continued, ignoring him, "she ditches you at the end of your first semester, leaving you with a broken heart and some shitty-ass apology note that isn't really an apology, all things considered… and not once, in the next ten years, does she contact you. You, the guy who always defended her when other people called her a slut, the guy who carried her home from practically every single party you attended because she couldn't hold her fucking liquor, the guy she supposedly 'loved'… but did she care about any of that? No."

"She must have had a reason," Will replied despondently. "I have no idea what kind of a reason, but—"

"Will, the girl is a psychopath," Jess insisted. "She's been manipulating you and using you your entire life. You need to wake up, smell the fucking coffee, and move on."

"She never manipulated me."

"Oh my God, do we really need to go through this? You find her in Toronto of all places, after ten years with no contact from her whatsoever, and less than a day later she's got you wrapped around her finger again. She even gets you to _babysit_ her nephew! And she _still_ hasn't told you why the hell she left. Seriously, she knows you'll do anything for her and she's taking total advantage of that."

"It was just a favor," Will muttered. "It's not that big a deal. I didn't mind doing it."

"Yeah, and when was the last time she did you a favor?"

When Will didn't answer, Jess sighed and said in a gentler tone, "Look, I know you're in love with her. I get it. But she obviously doesn't love you the same way. If she did, why would she say you couldn't date because you're coworkers and then run off to what's-his-face, that guy with the weird name?"

"Spike," Will filled in. The name forced itself through his lips with all the pleasantry of nails screeching down a chalkboard.

"Yeah, that asshole. She's _playing_ you, and you're too nice to see it. She's always been like this, even when you were younger. Did she ever tell you about the first guy she slept with?"

"Yeah. Doug," Will said, frowning. He'd played hockey with the guy freshman year. Doug, in his opinion, had earned the dubious honor of being one of Keira's few decent boyfriends over the years; they had dated on and off throughout ninth grade.

"You know she wasn't even interested in him, right? She just did it because she wanted to lose her virginity. That poor kid was in love with her, and she used him to get experience before she could move on to someone better. Sound familiar?"

"It wasn't like that," Will protested, but even he could hear the lie in his voice. He'd never understood why Keira had been so determined to start sleeping around at such a young age—but their one argument about it had ended with Keira shouting at him that he had no right to judge her, and him subsequently realizing that she was, well, right. It hadn't been any of his business then, and it still wasn't any of his business now. Even if she was sleeping with Spike.

"Yeah, well, she told me it was exactly like that. And I know she told you, too, so don't even try to stick up for her. When are you going to figure out that she's a self-centered, pathological liar who uses people and then dumps them when she no longer needs them? You can do so much better."

_No, I can't._

"Yes, you _can_," Jess retorted; Will was mortified to realize that he'd spoken aloud. "You just need to get over Keira. Why don't you try dating again? You've never had any problems finding a girlfriend. Just go to a bar or something and play the field."

"Playing the field's more your style than mine," Will said, finally taking pity on the pepper and setting it aside. "Besides, the only people I really know around here are my coworkers, and there's no way I'm seeing Spike any more than I have to."

Jess's voice took on a mischievous note. "Well, then, sounds like you're going to need a visit from your favorite cousin to cheer you up."

"No, it's fine, I know you're busy with work—"

"Yeah, 'busy' in the sense that I've put in mad overtime lately organizing this gala, so they owe me a couple of days off. Besides, I'm supposed to go to Toronto for a meeting with some of our clients next month, so it'll be good to figure my way around when I'm not in rush. Please, you're basically doing me a favor. Also… one of my college roommates lives in Toronto, and I haven't seen her in ages, and you'd totally like her."

"Oh, jeez. You really don't waste any time, do you?" Will had to admire Jess's dedication to matchmaking, even if he wasn't particularly in the mood. Yet he knew better than to share his misgivings with her—he'd learned by now that she wouldn't listen.

"Nope, I don't," Jess said happily. "So, pick a weekend that works for you and I'll be there. With Cassie."

"Okay… But I'm not making any promises," Will warned her. He didn't doubt that Cassie would be good company—Jess's friends usually were—but he didn't see himself entering a relationship any time soon. Not after walking in on the only woman he had ever loved while she was sleeping with another man, less than a month after she'd claimed to love him back. (And he'd been stupid enough to believe her.)

He had a feeling, though, that Jess wouldn't rest until he'd met this girl, so he might as well get it over with. That way, the sooner he could get back to the world's most pathetic self-pity party.

"You don't need to make any promises," Jess assured him. "You just need to have a good time."

Will gave a hollow laugh that died when he looked around his empty apartment. He wondered what Keira was doing now, if she and Spike were having sex at that very moment. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't erase the memory of them together—he'd dreamed of that night over and over again, until the images were seared onto his brain. Her hair, tangled and twisted; her legs, splayed out across the mattress and trembling. His shirt discarded on the floor, one hand stroking her thigh while the other held a vibrator humming against her sensitive flesh. Will remembered how her lips had parted, her face screwing up in pleasure as Spike brought her closer to the edge.

It was the first time he'd ever seen her naked—and it was nothing like how he'd imagined it would be.

"Will? You there?"

_Get a grip,_ he told himself. _She's moved on and found someone else. You have to accept that._ Even if that someone else was his coworker. Even if he wanted to punch that coworker every time he saw him, which was probably a job hazard. Even if he felt like Keira had reached into his chest, ripped out everything inside, and stomped on it all for good measure.

And especially if he was still, humiliatingly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with her.


	20. Cassie

**A/N:** So... apparently I dropped a lot of f-bombs in this chapter. Y'all have been warned.

If you're watching the Super Bowl tonight, have fun and stay safe!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty: Cassie<strong>

It was near the end of the shift and theoretically Keira was lifting weights, but mostly she was staring at Will and halfheartedly curling her arms whenever she remembered that she was supposed to be working out.

"Wow, that's, um… nice three-pound weight you've got there."

"Huh?" Startled, Keira glanced down at the dumbbells in her hands and realized that she might as well have not been doing anything in the first place. "Oh, yeah."

Spike sat down on the machine beside her. "How's it going?" he asked, and he wasn't referring to the workout.

Keira looked around, but none of their teammates was paying them any attention. Least of all Will, who was running through some sparring drills with Wordy. "Pretty shitty," she muttered, remembering with a pang how she and Will had once sparred together. Now he was always quick to find another partner, his behavior subtle enough that no one on the team ever thought twice about it. Except for her.

"He'll come around," Spike said quietly, though without much conviction in his voice. It had been almost a month since Will had walked in on the two of them, and he still hadn't spoken a word to Spike outside of the job. Keira had gotten the occasional conversation out of him, more through sheer determination than anything else, but it was all forced and uncomfortable and over too quickly. It wasn't that he was ever rude to her—he was discreet enough to avoid starting rumors. (He hadn't even told Greg about her and Spike, a kindness that was almost more than she could bear.) In all honesty, however, she would have preferred him yelling at her. That, at least, she deserved.

"Hey." Spike leaned over and nudged her. "He'll come around," he repeated. "You'll see."

"I don't think he will," Keira whispered, watching as her eyes blurred with tears and Will turned into little more than a golden haze. Only after several seconds of rapid blinking did her vision return to normal, at which point she noticed that Lou was observing them.

"What are you doing tonight?"

Keira grimaced. "Sorry, but I'm not really up for that right now," she admitted. Her sex drive was at an all-time low; lately she had been burying her feelings with Disney movies (the ones with blond male leads excluded), even after Brian was fast asleep. It was actually pathetic.

"I know," Spike assured her. "I was thinking that maybe we could just hang out. No"—his voice lowered, hovered on the word "sex," and chickened out at the last moment—"or any of that. Just Chinese food and a movie or something."

Keira considered taking him up on the offer. It was better than suffering alone, and at least Spike would try to cheer her up. But—she grimaced, ashamed of herself—she didn't want Spike. She wanted Will.

_And look at how badly you managed to fuck that one up._

"Keira?"

She swallowed. "Yeah," she said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Yeah, that sounds good." Her gaze wandered back to Will.

"Nice job," Wordy remarked as Will managed to extricate himself from a particularly tough headlock. _I taught him that,_ Keira thought sadly.

"Hey, Will?" Greg walked into the gym, immediately drawing everyone's attention—which had nothing to do with him, but rather with the two stunningly beautiful women who were flanking him. One blonde, one brunette; both in their early thirties, possibly even their late twenties; one petite and with a sweet air about her, the other taller and with a confident bearing.

Spike whistled under his breath, not-so-subtly eying the brunette.

"You've got some visitors," Greg said, once everyone was staring at said visitors.

All of a sudden, Keira realized that she recognized one of them.

Will's face broke into a grin. "Jess!" he exclaimed, jogging over to the women. He didn't appear to know the blonde, but he smiled at her anyway before turning back to his cousin. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Look at you, getting paid to work out," Jess teased him, leaning in for a hug. As she did so, her gaze landed on Keira… and hardened, her eyes narrowing into slits. Keira noted the lack of surprise in her expression. _Of course Will told her about me,_ she thought, chastising herself for being so slow on the uptake. Just how _much_ he had told her was the only question; and Keira had a feeling, based on the murderous look Jess was giving her, that the answer was everything.

She could hardly blame Jess for the cold reception, but an unpleasant shiver rippled through her spine anyway. Whenever she had allowed herself to imagine reuniting with Jess, it was always a happy occasion—in other words, a complete and total fantasy. They would resume their old friendship like it was nothing, and miraculously she would start dating Will again. She might as well have turned into the queen of fucking England for good measure: it was a fairytale at best, a delusion at worst. Jess had always been fiercely protective of Will, her youngest cousin; then there was the fact that she had enough attitude for an entire reality television show, not to mention a total lack of tolerance for bullshit. All in all, Jess was definitely not one to be forgiving.

"I told you I loved my job," Will quipped. The blonde chuckled at that, and Will glanced at her; they smiled awkwardly, then looked to Jess for an introduction.

"Oh, right. Will, Cassie; Cassie, Will," Jess said. There followed the obligatory _nice to meet you_s and _how do you do_s, with a side of small talk.

Two things immediately alarmed Keira: first, the handshake in which both of them held on for a heartbeat too long; and second, the hawk-like way in which Jess was observing the niceties. _She's setting them up,_ she realized, a cold sensation gripping her stomach.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Jess glanced up at Keira and, with the tiniest of smirks, silently dared her to protest. _Just try me,_ Keira imagined her ex-friend saying. _Make my fucking day._

Miserable, she pressed her lips together and looked away from Will and Cassie.

Satisfied, Jess glanced over at the rest of the team—which, with the exception of Keira, had slowly gathered around, waiting to be introduced—and flashed a smile. "Hi, everyone," she said, her gaze briefly lingering on Sam. _Sorry, Jess,_ Keira thought, instinctively biting back a grin. _He's taken._ "I'm Jess, Will's cousin."

"Oh, sorry." Will flushed, still looking at Cassie. "Uh, Jess, Cassie, these are my teammates. There's Greg, my boss…"

As the introductions progressed, Keira reluctantly stood up and moved closer to the group. Jess was deliberately ignoring her now, turning all her charm on Will's coworkers—and it was working, too. Wordy was pleased to discover that they had some mutual acquaintances in Calgary; Spike and Lou exchanged a couple of discreet grins; Parker was his usual affable self; and so on and so forth, nothing out of the ordinary, except for Keira wanting to throw up.

She considered running away as Will worked through the team, drawing closer and closer to her. _You used to have a sleepover a week with this girl,_ she reminded herself, wiping her clammy palms on her pants. Jess was probably the closest thing she'd ever had to a normal friendship, now that she could no longer define her relationship with Will as either "normal" or "friendship."

Yet Keira knew where Jess's loyalties lay. She had chosen self-preservation over Will, and so Jess would choose Will over her; and there was nothing Keira could do about it, other than remind herself that she had always known what the fallout of her decision would be. She had hoped that, in Toronto, she would be safe from the worst of it—but with Will back in her life, it had only been a matter of time before she had to confront his family.

"And Jess, you remember Keira…"

_Play nice,_ Will's tone was clearly warning his cousin.

Keira offered a tentative smile. _Maybe she won't totally hate me,_ she thought, waiting anxiously for Jess's response.

Jess's cold grey eyes locked onto hers. "Wow, Keira," she said, her voice dripping with acid. Keira felt her smile falter. "So nice to finally see you again after, what, ten years?"

_Okay, she definitely hates me._

Keira tried to ignore her teammates, but their curious stares lingered on the edges of her vision as she replied uncomfortably, "Hey, Jess."

"You know, I never would have pegged you as a police officer," Jess continued, a scathing edge to the false brightness of her words . "You always seemed more like the type to wind up in the backseat of a cruiser, not driving it."

"_Jess_," Will hissed through gritted teeth.

Jess's sharp eyes glinted as Keira flinched. "I'm just saying!" she replied with a light laugh. "After all that trouble she used to get in… You were always cleaning up after her messes."

"We should get going," Will said loudly. "I'll see you all tomorrow?"

After a chorus of goodbyes, Will hastily led his guests away. Keira stared after Cassie, her stomach clenching when she saw Will start to engage her in conversation. From what little of it she heard, Cassie seemed bubbly and outgoing—the complete opposite of Keira.

"Wow," Jules remarked, raising her eyebrows at Keira. "Someone's holding a grudge."

"Yeah, what was that about?" Wordy asked her, frowning.

"Screw that, I'm more interested in what you were up to in high school," Spike said mischievously. "Don't tell me you were a partier."

Sam and Lou couldn't hide their smirks at the mental image of Keira Ford, their perpetually sober and uptight-to-the-point-of-bitchiness coworker, doing something as social as attending a party.

"I can kind of see it," Jules said thoughtfully.

_You have no idea,_ Keira thought. Aloud, she said only, "Boss, are we done here?"

"Almost." Parker checked his watch. "In about ten minutes."

That was all Keira needed to hear, and she returned to her bench without bothering to address the others' curiosity. For some reason, she felt like she was about to cry.

_Absolutely not,_ she ordered herself, hefting up the weights and practically tossing them back onto the rack. _Jess was just sticking up for Will. If she knew the real story, she wouldn't have treated you like that._ Losing the McKnights and the Stevens, who were more of a family to her than her own, was the price of keeping her secrets; and she had to learn to deal with it, no matter how much it hurt.

But right now, it wasn't the memory of Jess's cold stare that was making her feel sick—it was Cassie, her blond curls bobbing around her shoulders as she laughed at something Will had said. It was Will, smiling at her. It was the two of them, sitting in a restaurant somewhere, getting to know each other as Jess inevitably used every reasonable excuse to slip away from the table and leave them alone.

And it was herself, incapable of learning a goddamn lesson. Ruining everything worth keeping in her life, one fuckup at a time, until no one in their right mind was left. She didn't deserve Will; she didn't deserve Spike; she didn't deserve anyone, except for maybe some of the assholes she'd thrown herself at after leaving college. Only she wasn't going back to that place in her life—she'd promised Jason that much.

She recoiled from the direction her thoughts had taken. _Don't be like that,_ she chastised herself. _You still have Spike. God knows why, but you still have him. And Will deserves to be happy, which he could never be with you._

And that, at the end of the day, was the crux of it all. Will deserved everything, he deserved the entire fucking world—and all he'd get from her were lies and disappointments. If Cassie could improve upon that, then Keira was obligated to let her try.

Even if it meant feeling like her heart was slowly being torn to shreds, the pieces scattered one at a time into a cold, unforgiving wind.

* * *

><p>She could not have left the SRU headquarters soon enough. Out of the building before Jules was even in the locker room, Keira headed straight for her car, determined to get the hell home and lose herself in a Power Rangers marathon with Brian. Anything involving one person beating the shit out of another was a necessary entertainment at this point.<p>

And then Spike materialized at her side, grinning like he was seven and Christmas had come early.

"What?" she snapped, trying to cover up how startled she was. She hadn't heard him approaching; she was irritated with herself for that, because she would have walked faster and ducked into the car before he could catch up.

"I'm very curious," Spike said, apparently oblivious to her Not in the Fucking Mood expression. "What sort of trouble did you used to get into, hm? Lou thinks you beat up guys for hitting on you, but I'm personally leaning towards you getting into fights with guys _and_ girls…"

And now she was pissed. Pissed at Spike for asking questions, even though he'd promised he wouldn't; at Jess for thinking the worst of her, when there wasn't a damn thing she could do to change that; and, most of all, at Will for allowing himself to be caught in one of Jess's matchmaking traps. "Actually, both of you are wrong," she said curtly. "I just fucked a shitload of guys in high school."

Spike did a double take. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, _seriously_," Keira retorted, too incensed to think better of what she was saying. "What, you want numbers or something? Nine guys sophomore year. Twelve junior year. Six senior year. You do the math. The guidance counselor had to have a talk with my parents" (yeah, she'd never told anyone on the team about her stepfather) "because they were 'concerned about my _promiscuity_.'" Jim had fucking loved that; it had given him the perfect excuse to use the belt, which in turn had led to some of his other favorite activities.

She wasn't going to cry about that night, either.

For a moment, it seemed beyond Spike's capacity to do anything other than blink. "You slept with twenty-seven guys in _high school_?" he finally asked.

"I swear to God, if you even _think_ about calling me a slut, we're done."

"Whoa, I wasn't," Spike promised, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. "I just… I haven't even slept with that many people _now_."

Keira shrugged irritably. He was still staring at her, the way her mother had during that meeting with the guidance counselor—as if she were a different person all of a sudden, as if he had finally gotten to know the real her and didn't like what he saw. Or maybe she was projecting old memories onto him, and in reality he was just surprised. She hoped it was the latter. She didn't expect him to be like Will, who had once punched a guy for asking when her legs were open for business, but she didn't think she could handle it if he got in line behind everyone else who thought she was a slut.

The silence stretched on until it seemed interminable. "So?" Keira demanded at last, unable to stomach it. "Can we move on now, or is this going to be an issue?"

"Of course it's not going to be an issue," Spike said, narrowing his eyes. "Keira, what's going on? Is this about Will and his cousin, or is there something else that I should know about?"

"It's not about anything," she snapped. "It's just about… about…" (she had the mortifying sensation of being on the brink of tears) "…too many fucking people judging me because of my sex life. And I'd rather know right now if you're going to be one of them, because I just… I can't deal with that right now." She pressed her lips together when she was done, but it was too late: Spike had already seen them trembling, had seen what this conversation was doing to her.

"I'm not judging you," he said quietly. His hand flexed, a tiny movement that Keira was afraid might have been to comfort her; but he thought better of it, and let his arm fall back to his side. "I'm worried about you."

She managed a bitter smile at that. "I'm f—"

"Don't tell me you're fine," Spike cut her off. Keira had the unsettling feeling that he was literally seeing right through her, that he could read every last dark secret in the furthest corners of her mind. She shook off the ridiculous idea and tried to break his gaze, but something in his eyes wouldn't let her. "You're not fine. And you haven't been for a while, have you."

_Lie, lie, lie. Hide everything else._

"Are you my therapist?" she asked, her coldness her brittle armor.

"Don't give me that."

"Then don't make me," she said. It was getting harder to breathe, harder to think straight. "Because I'm _sick_ of all your fucking questions."

And, for a moment, she thought she actually would vomit. Somehow, she found the strength to turn around. Leave Spike behind, and maybe—judging by the look on his face—their friendship. Get in the car, start the engine, and go. She was moving on autopilot, her mind buzzing and her fingers trembling.

"_You're not fine. And you haven't been for a while, have you."_

"Damn it, Spike," she whispered under her breath as the tears started to fall. "Why do you have to be so fucking smart?"


	21. Friends?

**A/N:** There's something I don't like about this chapter, but I can't figure out what and I've spent way too much time tinkering on it. Hopefully you guys will enjoy reading it more than I did writing it! ;)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One: Friends?<strong>

_Mario Kart, or Super Mario?_ Spike thought to himself, eying the two Nintendo games. On the one hand, Mario Kart was fairly mindless fun, and he didn't know if he had the attention span right now to concentrate on anything else. On the other hand, there were more explosions in Super Mario, which might prove to be a better distraction from wondering whether or not Keira would show up.

_Super Mario it is, then,_ he decided, popping in the game cartridge. He glanced at his cell phone again, but the screen was just as dark as it had been ten seconds earlier. Keira had yet to respond to the text he'd sent over an hour ago, asking if they still had plans for the evening. He'd ordered enough Chinese food for both of them, just in case; the unopened cartons were still sitting on his nightstand, growing colder by the minute.

His mind kept replaying their conversation, over and over again. Focusing not on words, but images: the tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes, the protective way she'd hugged her chest. Her stance, legs terse and feet pressing into the ground, making sure he kept his distance. Somewhere along the line, during one of their nights together, he thought he'd earned the right to push her that far—he couldn't have been more mistaken. All he had to show for it was a newfound sympathy for Will.

"Oh, fuck." Mario had just fallen off a bridge and died… on _the first Bowser level_. Normally that would have been an insult to Spike's honor, but tonight he couldn't even bring himself to care. Disgruntled, he turned off the Nintendo and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Twenty-seven guys. In _high school_. Spike considered himself a feminist, or at least as much of a feminist as a man could be, so he didn't make a habit of questioning women's sex lives. But he also knew that teenage promiscuity, especially in cases as extreme as Keira's, was sometimes a symptom of underlying problems… and he couldn't stop thinking about the raw, trapped look in her eyes as she'd stood there in the parking lot, tossing those numbers at him like they were weapons. Something inside of her was desperate, clawing to get out—but what? What was he missing?

He found himself rewinding through their relationship, pausing at some of the things that he'd always wondered about. A flinch here, a grimace there; a dodged question or a strange look she'd thought he hadn't noticed. And then, of course, the rules.

"_Wait," Keira said, before he could slide her underwear off._

_He stopped immediately, wondering if she was having second thoughts. If sleeping with a coworker, even on a no-strings-attached basis, was a boundary she'd realized she couldn't cross. He started trying to figure out how he could climb off of her and put his clothes back on with minimal awkwardness._

"_If we're going to do this," she began, biting her lip in an incredibly sexy, distracting way, "I have rules."_

"_Like, in addition to the 'no questions about my childhood' rule?" he teased her._

_She didn't laugh. Instead, he felt her stomach muscles tighten under his palm. "Yes. And I'm serious, so listen."_

_He quickly sobered. "I'm listening," he promised._

"_Three rules," she said, holding up the same amount of fingers for emphasis. "One: don't pin me to the bed. Or restrain me. In any way."_

"_Deal," he agreed. Bondage wasn't really his thing, either. "Missionary's okay, though, right?" he asked, suddenly conscious of how much more he weighed than her._

"_Yeah. But I'm definitely going to be on top at some point," she said, a mischievous smirk briefly teasing her features._

_He was not going to think about how gorgeous she looked in that moment. "What's the second rule?"_

_Something in her eyes closed off, a little part of her disappearing. "Don't slap me."_

"_What?" he asked. It wasn't like he'd never heard of someone getting off on spanking, but he honestly hadn't been expecting her to bring it up._

"_Don't slap me," she repeated forcefully. "Some people like that shit, but I don't. Slap me, and we're done."_

"_Bad experience?" he inquired, startled by her vehemence._

"_Third rule," she said, her exquisitely blank face belying the fact that her stomach was still twitching: "Don't call me a slut, or a whore, or any of that. I can't stand dirty talk."_

"_Well, you don't have to worry about that," Spike assured her. "I can't, either."_

_He was rewarded with the ghost of a grin. "Good." She gently nudged him with her hips, and he felt a low coil of pleasure stirring in his groin. "What about you? Do you have any rules? Or things you don't like?"_

_He thought for a moment. "Role-play."_

"_Have you tried it?" Keira asked, her eyebrows shooting up._

_Spike grimaced. "You have no idea how many of my girlfriends have begged me to arrest them."_

_Keira burst out laughing. "I never realized that was a perk of the job," she finally managed, gasping._

"_Yeah, yeah." And then, to shut her up, he kissed her._

Spike lingered on the third rule, realizing now where it had come from. _Too many fucking people judging me because of my sex life,_ she'd said, and he could only imagine what it must have been like for her in high school. Today, she had gone on the defensive so quickly that he knew it had stayed with her over the years.

He had the briefest notion of calling Will to get some answers, but it was gone before he could so much as acknowledge how ridiculous it was. Even assuming Will would a) pick up, and b) not hang up, what the hell would he say? "Hey, Will, I'm trying to figure out what's going on with Keira and I could use your help, would you mind if we started with the twenty-seven guys she screwed in high school while you were probably madly in love with her"? Yeah, he didn't think that would go over too well.

The problem was, he didn't know Keira. Not like Will knew her, anyway. Sure, he could pretty much always tell when she was irritated, happy, upset, or about to orgasm; but he still couldn't figure out what set her off most of the time. _Would it kill you to let me in once in a while?_ he thought, sighing. Maybe she would never be ready to reveal whatever it was that she was so determined to hide—but he hated watching her suffer in silence and not being able to do a damn thing about it.

His cell phone buzzed just then, announcing that he had a new text message, and he left Mario standing in front of Princess Peach's castle. The message consisted of exactly two words: _I'm here._

When he let Keira in, his eyes widened at her appearance. She looked absolutely exhausted, like she had run a marathon after work and was coming straight from the finish line. Her hair was still wet from the shower—which, judging by the redness of her skin, had reached near-burning temperatures—and she was practically drowning in a pair of oversized sweatpants that were a far cry from her usual jeans.

She shoved greetings and pleasantries aside, impatient to cut through the small talk. "About what I said today," she began.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Spike replied guardedly.

She sighed, as if to say, _That's what I was afraid of._ "Don't read anything into it, okay? It was stupid and I shouldn't have said it."

"But you did," Spike pointed out, leaning against the wall. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He knew what the answer would be before she so much as opened her mouth. "There's nothing to talk about," of course, though her hoarse voice said otherwise. "Just don't go making it into something it isn't."

"Like what?"

She gave him a sharp look.

"Keira, you kind of dropped a bomb—"

"Let's get something straight," she said fiercely. "I'm not some kind of _victim_, or 'fallen woman,' or whatever it is you're thinking. And now I'm done talking about it."

She had let him in the door, and now she was slamming it in his face. A rush of irritation swept through him: why was she being so stubborn, so determined in her refusal to get the help she obviously needed? Why was she pushing him away, when all he was trying to do was be there for her? How the hell could Will stand it?

He restrained himself from saying anything, but he didn't have to: she could read it in his eyes. "Never mind," she spoke, swallowing. Her face crumpled for the briefest instant, then hardened in a pitiful attempt at self-protection. "I should go."

"No. Don't." Spike sighed, wishing he'd done a better job of concealing his emotions. As frustrated as he was, he knew that it wasn't about him. And it probably wasn't about Will, either.

Keira paused, still half-turned away from him. Spike didn't put a hand on her arm, the way he wanted to; he had no idea how she'd react. "Come on," he murmured instead, gesturing down the stairs. After a moment, she nodded and started the descent.

When they sat down on the bed, she glanced at the Chinese food cartons and then back up at him. "I know we weren't planning on having sex tonight, but…"

Even though part of him had been expecting it from the moment of her arrival, warning bells still went off. "Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly. He could have psychoanalyzed her behavior six ways from Sunday, using phrases like _self-destructive_ and possibly _unbalanced_, but the only thing that would accomplish was pissing her off.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I know—I know this is stupid, I know it's pathetic, but I'm in a really bad mood right now and I just… I just want to forget…"

"Okay," he replied, because he couldn't find the words for anything else he wanted to say. "Okay. But can we at least have some of this food before it goes bad?"

That brought a smile to her face, even if it was a strained one. "Yeah, good idea."

They ate in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Spike, in particular, was developing some major reservations about the whole evening. Yes, he'd been the one to invite her over in the first place—and yes, he'd originally had sex in mind—but he wasn't sure how he felt about sleeping with her tonight. In her current state, it was too close to taking advantage of her for his comfort.

"All right, what is it?"

Keira's voice startled him. "What's what?" he asked, blinking.

"That look on your face." She frowned at him. "You don't want to have sex?"

"No, not—I mean, yes, I do, it's just—"

"You don't," she finished flatly, staring down at the carton of peking ravioli in her hands.

"No, that's not it," Spike insisted. "I just don't want to… well, to take advantage of you. Cause you're kind of… upset right now."

Keira started laughing.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, looking at her quaking shoulders in bewilderment.

"Oh, God, are you serious?" Keira finally got herself under control, but traces of amusement still lingered in her tone. "I'm pretty much using you for a petty revenge slash anger fuck, and you're afraid of taking advantage of _me_?"

"A _what_?" Spike asked, chuckling in spite of the situation.

"No point in pretending it's anything other than that." Keira shrugged, her expression dulling once more. "Besides, it's not the first time either of us has done it."

"It isn't?"

"Please. Remember the time what's-her-face, that blonde chick, broke up with you and you invited me over for a 'Mario Kart tournament'?"

Spike had a vague recollection of that night, but none of it involved Mario Kart—probably because they hadn't played it for very long, assuming they had even started to at all. "Yeah," he muttered, flushing.

Keira smirked at him. "I mean, I wouldn't exactly call it 'anger fucking,' because you looked like you were going to cry every time you—"

"Okay, now you're just making fun of me," Spike interjected with a grimace. "That wasn't one of my better moments."

"And this isn't one of mine," Keira pointed out. "So, unless _you're_ uncomfortable with it…"

"As long as you're sure—"

"I am."

They looked at each other, an awkward silence forming as the seconds lengthened. Keira licked her lips, shifting on the bed while she waited for Spike's answer.

"Okay," he finally agreed, still trying to figure out where his better judgment stood. "Yeah, I don't mind."

That was when she asked, "Have you ever done it against a wall?"

* * *

><p><em>On a scale of 1-10, how sore are you right now?<em>

Keira grimaced when she saw Spike's text. On the list of her greatest ideas, last night probably wasn't ranked very high. Not only was she incredibly sore (_20,_ she texted back), but she had also made a fool of herself. _Great going, dumbass,_ she thought, sighing as she closed her locker. _Apparently all Will has to do is _smile _at another girl and you're running into Spike's arms._ It was the kind of behavior that made Jason frown at her, like he had during breakfast when she'd given him a highly censored version of the sob story.

"Rough morning?"

Keira glanced over at Jules, who was still changing into her workout gear. "You could say that," she muttered, hoping that Parker hadn't scheduled any combat drills for the day. She already had enough bruises on her back, thanks to her frequent insistence that Spike go "harder," "faster," and other adverbs that her body was now regretting.

Jules was watching her closely. "Everything all right?" she asked. When Keira's only response was a nod, she probed a little further. "You sure? You looked kind of upset yesterday when Jess was—"

The door to the locker room opened, and Sam strolled in as if he owned the place—or, at the very least, as if he were in familiar territory. "Hey, Jules, do you have a… Oh." He'd noticed Keira.

"Hey, Sam," Keira said pointedly. For reasons that she couldn't quite explain, the sight of his discomfort was oddly gratifying. Normally, she would have been charitable—she would have cleared her throat, made light conversation while pretending that his behavior was nothing out of the ordinary, and then she would have excused herself. Today, it seemed, she was more inclined to schadenfreude.

Jules's response was even sharper. "Sam, you're not supposed to be in here."

Sam hesitated, his typically cool demeanor replaced by flushed cheeks and a distinctly guilty look on his face. "Yeah, uh, sorry. I was just, uh…"

Keira rolled her eyes and made a noise of exasperation, drawing their attention. "All right, you know what?" she said, picking up her cell phone and water bottle. "In the interests of this not being awkward, I already know that the two of you are dating, or fucking, or both, and I really don't give a shit. Okay? So now I'll leave and you two can, like, plan your next date night or whatever."

"Did that just happen?" she heard Jules ask as she strode out the door.

* * *

><p>Keira regretted her harsh words to Sam and Jules the moment she left the locker room, but she was too embarrassed to turn around and give them an apology—although she definitely owed them one in the near future. She hadn't meant to snap like that; she supposed her already crappy mood had just kicked into overdrive at the thought of them happily arranging a rendezvous while Will was still barely talking to her.<p>

"Hey, Keira, wait up!"

Keira tensed in surprise as Will fell in step beside her. _Speak of the devil…_ "Hey," she said, folding her arms across her chest. Everything about her voice was wrong; it felt too forced, too cheery. "How was, uh, hanging out with Jess and Cassie?"

"It was good. Yeah. But, uh, that's kind of what I was hoping to you about," Will replied, looking anxiously at her. "Can we, uh, stop for a second?"

They were in the main lobby, which was completely deserted except for Winnie—who, at this early hour, was enjoying the luxury of being able to engross herself in a trashy romance novel. "Yeah, sure," Keira agreed, though not without some trepidation.

"I'm really sorry about what happened with Jess yesterday," Will began, sighing. "I told her not to flip out at you before she came, but I guess she didn't really listen."

"She could have done a lot worse," Keira murmured with a small smile. "That was pretty restrained for Jess."

Will laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But still… You guys used to be really close."

"_Okay, honey," Jess said, crisp and business-like, as Keira stared in horror at the bloody mess that, up until five minutes ago, had been her favorite pair of underwear. "You're going to need chocolate, Advil, _Dirty Dancing_, and tampons. _So _many tampons."_

Keira's grin faded, and her throat suddenly felt constricted. "I can't exactly blame her for being mad at me," she said, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

"She'll come around," Will predicted weakly.

Keira hastily cleared her throat, not wanting to cry in front of him. "So, uh… How was Cassie? She seemed pretty nice."

"Oh, yeah, she's…" And Will had that look in his eye, the one she had always teased him about. _It's a dead giveaway,_ she'd said, laughing, though the complaint had disappeared soon enough once they'd started dating. This time, however, the look wasn't meant for her. "We're, uh, probably going to see each other again."

"Oh! Wow, that's great," Keira said, wincing at how her voice sounded. She had injected it with all the false cheer she could muster, but it wasn't enough to numb the hurt. He was moving on. Awesome. She could totally handle this. "So, you're thinking you guys might start dating?" And apparently she was into masochism.

"I don't know. Maybe." Will smiled a little, recalling some memory Keira hadn't been a part of. "She's really nice, you'd—" _like her_, he'd been about to say, but he caught himself just in time. "Yeah, she's really nice," he finished lamely.

"Jess's friends are usually pretty cool," she said casually, wondering why she was doing this to herself. And how on Earth she was managing to give such a good performance.

"Yeah, they are." Will hesitated, then darted a glance at her. "So, if this turns into a thing… It's not going to be awkward, is it?"

Keira frowned. "Of course not. Why would it be?"

His mouth opened, then closed. He had _Are you kidding me?_ written all across his face.

"Sorry, bad question. I know we used to date," she said, squeezing a laugh out of her dry throat and conveniently glossing over the fact that, less than two months ago, she'd told him she loved him. _Will deserves better than you,_ she reminded herself. "But don't worry, I have no problems with it. I hope things work out with her." She forced a grin, the effort exhausting her.

"Okay…" Will's eyes were narrowed slightly, and for a moment she panicked. Had she not been convincing enough? Did he think she was being sarcastic?

"Really," she said, smiling so much it hurt. "Have you asked her out yet?"

"Uh, no. Well, sort of." Will scratched his head, and Keira pretended not to notice how adorable he was when he got flustered. "We're planning on going out for coffee this weekend. Nothing major."

"Oh. Well, that's always a good starting point." God, she sounded so fake. "If you're looking for a place, the Rooster—I don't know if you've heard of it, it's near Riverdale Park—is really good. You get a nice view of the city."

Recommending coffee shops for the man she was in love with to take someone else. Was this seriously what her life had become?

"Yeah? Uh, thanks. Maybe we'll try that one."

"Yeah. I mean, I don't know where Cassie is, so maybe it's out of the way or something"—_Stop rambling, you idiot!_ she yelled at herself—"but, uh, yeah, it's. Um. Good." Was it just her, or was Winnie starting to find their conversation more interesting than her romance novel? "Well, I should, uh, get going."

She made some kind of vague gesture toward the gym, considered saying something else, then walked away before he could see how much damage she had just done to herself.

* * *

><p>Will stared after Keira, watching in disbelief as she strolled into the gym and said hello to Wordy.<p>

She hadn't cared. She hadn't cared at all.


	22. Shifting Boundaries

**A/N:** Hey, guys! Sorry for the delay in posting. This chapter was getting way too long, so I decided to split it. I should be posting the next chapter over the weekend. =)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two: Shifting Boundaries<strong>

"Okay, so, I'm thinking Jamaica," Spike said, digging into his spaghetti with relish.

"Jamaica?" Lou repeated skeptically. The two of them were using their lunch break to iron out the details of a vacation they had been talking about for a while, which until recently had only been a vague concept. Lou had finally decided that it had to become a reality soon, otherwise it would never happen, so they had agreed to brainstorm ideas and report back today.

"Hell yes," Spike confirmed. "Sun, surf, booze, and girls—what more do we need?"

"A place to stay," Lou pointed out. "Some semblance of an itinerary."

Spike grinned. "That's where you come in, buddy," he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. When Lou rolled his eyes, he added, "Hey, I came up with the place!"

Before Lou could respond, Sam walked into the briefing room and took the seat next to him. "Hey, guys."

Lou glanced at the bag in his hands. "Tim's? Really?"

"Yeah, want some?" Sam asked, pulling out a donut.

Spike and Lou politely declined. Sam didn't seem to care, or even notice, that they'd responded at all. He'd been walking around in a thinly-veiled cloud ever since Jules had been shot on a call two weeks ago. The sniper, the son of a subject whom Ed had taken out earlier that year, had been out for revenge—and, before Sam brought him down, he'd almost succeeded. Jules's wound wasn't fatal, and she was already complaining about how bored she was, but she wasn't going to be returning to work anytime soon. No one had yet acknowledged the fact that Parker was reluctantly searching for a new team member.

"What are you guys up to?" Sam inquired, making an effort to be social. He glanced at the travel brochure Spike had slid across the table to Lou.

"Lou and I are going to Jamaica, baby!" Spike crowed, leaning over to high-five Lou.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Nice."

"Yeah, just as soon as I plan out the entire trip," Lou said with a smirk. "Spike's not very interested in the finer details."

Spike waved the accusation away. "We'll figure it out," he promised.

"Do you guys know when you're leaving?"

"Yeah, Lou, when are we leaving?"

The door to the briefing room banged open while Lou was groaning. Keira and Will appeared, deep in conversation.

"I don't understand how you can eat all that and not feel like shit during workout," Will was saying.

"Talent," Keira replied breezily, slapping a grease-stained McDonald's bag down on the table a few seats away from the others. "Also a good metabolism." Will could only shake his head as she pulled out a large order of fries and pushed the carton between them. "You're sharing with me," she warned him.

"Of course I am."

"Remember that time your mom took us to McDonald's and we hid in the ball pit?" Keira asked, unwrapping a hamburger that looked like it weighed half as much as she did.

Will winced. "And then she yelled at me, even though it was your idea."

"Hey, that ball pit was awesome," Keira defended herself. "Also completely unsanitary, but awesome."

"Hello? Spike?"

Spike blinked as he was drawn back into his conversation with Lou. "Sorry, what?"

"Scuba diving, yes/no?"

For a few minutes, the two of them—with occasional contributions from Sam—debated which water-related activities they would try to fit in on the trip. Lou eventually went back to the brochure, though, and Spike found himself observing Keira and Will once again. There was something endlessly fascinating about watching the two of them dance around each other, both of them trying to find their balance amid the constantly shifting boundaries of their friendship. And yet, that wasn't the only reason he was keeping an eye on them.

Ever since Will had started dating Cassie, Keira had become a regular fixture at Spike's house. They didn't bother with pretenses: Keira needed to keep her mind off of Will, and Spike was more than happy to hang out with her. Yeah, sure, being Keira's friend meant that he had to put up with a lot of unanswered questions and cheesy eighties movies, but it was all worth it. She was smart, funny, and surprisingly thoughtful; she seemed to have a sixth sense as to when he was in the mood for company, or when he just needed to unwind.

And yet… lately, their relationship had started to change. Now, when she came over, it wasn't always for sex; the other week she'd had dinner with his family, and last night they'd played a pretty hardcore game of Monopoly. He liked how relaxed their friendship had become, how natural it felt to lounge around with her and talk about their day—but part of him wondered if he liked it _too_ much, if it felt _too_ natural. He'd noticed, recently, that they'd been kissing more often during sex and, on occasion, almost-sort-of cuddling. Neither of them had mentioned it, and he wasn't even sure who had initiated it. What really worried him, though, was that he didn't mind it at all.

Worse, he sometimes caught himself thinking about her at odd moments, like when he was having a beer with Lou or when he was helping his mom in the kitchen. Not that he could really see himself in a legitimate relationship with her—he just wasn't ready for a serious commitment yet, never mind her intimacy issues and the fact that they were coworkers—but he occasionally had fleeting thoughts about what it might be like, somewhere down the road. And then he had to wonder what kind of crack he was on, because he and Keira were never going to happen. Not when she was still in love with Will.

"So we should definitely go to a gay bar and pick up some dudes while we're there."

Spike started to nod, then realized what Lou had said. "Wait, _what_?"

Sam and Lou were smirking at the look on his face. "I've only been trying to get your attention for the past minute," Lou replied, trying not to laugh. "But hey, if you want to go—"

"Funny," Spike grumbled. "What did you want to tell me?"

"River rafting." Lou jabbed at an item on the brochure. "We're doing it."

Gay bars forgotten, Spike nodded enthusiastically. "I've always wanted to try that. Could never get my parents to go for it, though… Hey, what about one of those zip line things?"

They continued bouncing ideas off of each other for a while, and until eventually there was a lull in the conversation. A comfortable silence followed, allowing Keira's voice to drift over.

"So, how are things with Cassie?" she asked Will, sounding as though she were trying _very_ hard to be casual.

Spike saw Lou grin as he bit into his sandwich.

"Good," Will replied, equally off-handedly. "Our three-month anniversary's coming up."

"Nice." Keira's voice was very non-committal. "Got anything planned?"

Will flushed. "Not yet. I kind of want to do something special, but I don't know what."

"Hm." Keira pursed her lips in thought. "Well, normally you guys go out to dinner, right? Maybe you could do a day date. There's so much to do around this area, I'm sure you could find something for both of you."

Will looked grateful for the suggestion. "That's actually a really good idea, I think she'd like that."

_The hell is she doing…?_ Spike wondered as Keira smiled, evidently glad to have been of service. Judging by the expressions on their faces, Lou and Sam were asking themselves the same question.

He didn't get a chance to find out until the end of their lunch break, when they were both heading to the locker room before the second half of their shift started. "So, what's with the self-sabotage?" he asked curiously, lowering his voice just in case one of their teammates followed after them.

Keira gave him a blank look. "What?"

"Giving Will date ideas? For Cassie?"

Keira stopped short, and he was surprised to see the anger that flashed across her features. "He's my best friend," she said, so fiercely that there could be no room for argument. "Why the hell wouldn't I help him?"

"Do you want me to state the obvious?"

"Who cares if I'm in love with him?" she hissed, keeping her voice down. "He doesn't love me, so it's not like it matters." She started blinking rapidly. "Ugh, fucking shit in my eye…"

Spike sighed, wondering how two otherwise perfectly intelligent people could be so completely, utterly, ridiculously _stupid _about each other.

He was about to say something much kinder when Keira cleared her throat and shook her head. "Never mind," she said, sighing. "There's been way too much drama in my life lately, and I'm getting kind of sick of it. What are you doing after work?"

"Uh…" Spike hesitated, thrown off by the abrupt change in their routine. They'd never hung out so early before, and his first instinct was to say no to whatever it was she had in mind. He needed those boundaries, if only for himself.

"I'm planning on visiting Jules," Keira explained, picking up on his discomfort. "You can come if you want, I'm going either way."

She didn't wait for an answer, and he felt his muscles loosen in relief as she smiled and disappeared into the locker room that was now hers alone.

_Visiting Jules,_ he thought. _I can do that._ And he would do it—he hadn't been to see her in a couple of days, and he'd compiled a care package of sorts that he couldn't wait to give her. (If you could call a shoebox full of trashy romance novels, each with a plot more ludicrous than the last, one of which had a blond hero named Sam, and all of which he had selected knowing very well that Jules despised romance novels but would read them anyway because she was that bored, a care package.)

The fact that Keira would be there as well was a non-issue. At least, it should have been a non-issue.

Spike exhaled. He now knew exactly how she felt about having too much drama in her life.


	23. The Stepfather

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Stepfather**

After they visited Jules, Spike surprised Keira by asking if she wanted to grab dinner—emphasis on the word "grab," so that it wouldn't be mistaken for "date." The restaurant they chose was pointedly casual, yet she felt a twinge of uneasiness when they opened their menus: it was the first time she and Spike had ever gone somewhere together, without the rest of their team to act as a buffer. More than once she caught herself glancing at the door, as if waiting for Greg to walk in and fire them on the spot.

Once they'd ordered, though, her anxiety fell by the wayside. They talked about Jules, commiserating over how stir-crazy she'd looked and wondering what was going on with her and Sam. (Her face had clouded over the one time they'd mentioned him, suggesting that all was not well in paradise.) He asked her about Jason, Allie, and Brian, and laughed his ass off when she told him that Brian had enjoying finger-painting at preschool so much that he'd decided to try it at home… on his bedroom walls. By the time they were sharing a dessert and fighting over who got to have the last piece, Keira couldn't believe she had ever thought the dinner would be awkward.

(She tried not to think of how much it reminded her of all the dates she used to go on with Will.)

They each paid for their share of dinner, split the tip, and returned to Spike's place, where their clothes stayed on for the approximately thirty seconds it took to slip into his room. Neither of them bothered dressing afterward; instead, Spike turned on the TV and honed in, as if by instinct, on a showing of _The Godfather_.

"Be more stereotypically Italian. I dare you," Keira said teasingly as one of the sons (she could never get their names straight) arranged for someone's murder.

"Hey, this is a classic," Spike insisted. "It's not my fault you don't have taste."

Keira rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, the seventies were such a wash compared to the eighties."

"The vast majority of reasonable human beings would completely disagree with you on that."

"One word: Madonna. Your argument is invalid."

"Okay, okay," Spike conceded, "Madonna had _some_ good songs, but—"

"_Some_?" Keira echoed indignantly. "She's only the best performing artist, like, ever." Pretty much every playlist on her iPod was devoted exclusively to Madonna, including "good mood," "bad mood," "workout," and "appropriate for Brian to listen to in the car."

The look Spike gave her was half-astonished, half-amused. "And that's a fact, is it?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I shouldn't have you over anymore…"

"Shut up and let me use you as a pillow, okay? I might fall asleep during this movie."

"No taste," Spike muttered as she nestled into the crook of his arm. Keira rolled her eyes and lay her head on his chest, ready to settle in for a quiet evening. She wondered what Will and Cassie were doing right now.

_Don't,_ she warned herself. Every time she thought about the two of them, she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Which, when she was trying to be supportive of Will, was kind of a problem. Not to mention pathetic. Deep down, she knew that she couldn't be the person Will deserved—and, as much as she hated to admit it, Cassie was.

That first coffee date, now almost three months ago, had quickly turned into a standing dinner on Wednesday evenings, with a rain check for Thursday if the SRU got a call. Since then, Cassie had made occasional appearances at the station, a breath of fresh air when all of them were exhausted from one brutal drill or another. Keira found herself drawn into conversation with her, and was disappointed to discover that Cassie was funny, smart, and nice to a fault. Worse, she seemed to genuinely be interested in becoming friends with Keira, having quickly discovered that she and Will had grown up together. (But she had not, Keira was certain, been told much more than that.)

"Uh, Keira?"

"Hm?"

For a moment, Spike didn't say anything—and in the uncomfortable silence that followed, Keira realized she had been absent-mindedly tracing circles on his chest. She quickly yanked her hand back. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I didn't even notice…" Her cheeks grew hot as she tried, and failed, to decipher the expression on his face. "This is really awkward, I'm so sorry, I totally didn't mean to make things weird…" She slid out from under his arm, trying to reconstruct the unspoken boundary she had just crossed.

"No, it's…" Spike paused, then sighed. "Maybe we should talk. About this."

Keira felt her stomach turn cold. By "this," he wasn't referring to the circles. "This" meant something a lot more serious.

"What's up?" she asked cautiously.

Spike propped himself up on an elbow, his brown eyes holding hers. "I just… I don't know, lately it feels like we're becoming kind of… like a couple. I know we're not," he added hastily as she opened her mouth, "and I'm not saying we should be or anything. But we've been hanging out more recently, and we've been kissing a lot, and we were basically cuddling a few minutes ago. I guess I'm just wondering… if this is going somewhere."

Maybe it was a question she should have expected from the moment she first stepped into his basement. Hadn't there always been that sense of "what if" with Spike: what if Will wasn't in the picture, what if they weren't coworkers? But now that Spike had given those doubts a voice, her mind had gone blank. Will was always in the picture, she reminded herself. They were still coworkers.

He was looking at her, waiting for an answer, and what frightened her the most was that she didn't have one. Were they really becoming more like a couple? Was it—the kissing, the cuddling—a bad thing? She liked being with him; she liked how he made her laugh, how easy it was for them to decide on a movie, how relentlessly he teased her whenever she accidentally killed Mario. How sex wasn't over for him until she'd gotten off just as much as he had.

But did that mean she wanted a relationship with him? Even though they'd just gone out to dinner, she still couldn't imagine them going on an actual date together. Not only would it be, well, weird, but it would make things a lot more complicated at work. Sam and Jules were such a joke sometimes; they might as well be walking around with neon signs on their foreheads, for all the good their casual behavior was doing.

And then there was Will.

"Do you want it to?" Keira finally managed, at a complete loss for better words.

Spike looked just as confused as she felt. "I don't know," he said after a moment.

She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Then…"

"I don't know. I guess… Now's just not really a good time. Not that I don't—"

"No, I get it," Keira cut him off; she didn't need him to try and placate her. "Maybe we should talk about this later, then? And tone down on the kissing in the meantime?"

The tension in the room eased; both of them were clearly relieved, even though neither of them wanted to admit it. "Yeah," Spike agreed, exhaling. "Yeah, we can talk later."

Keira glanced at the television. "Back to _The Godfather_?" she asked, knowing that Spike loved the upcoming scene where what's-his-face met with the other mob bosses.

Spike grinned. "Yeah, back to _The Godfather_."

* * *

><p><em>She and Will collapsed in a heap on his couch, laughter filling the air. "I love you so much," Will murmured, kissing his way up her throat.<em>

_Keira giggled as his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin on her neck. "I love you, too," she whispered back._

_Sunlight was streaming into the room, and Madonna was playing on the stereo; she couldn't think of a better way to spend a lazy summer afternoon than being with her boyfriend, his parents gone for the next couple of hours._

_Will leaned in to kiss her again, and all she could think of was how happy she was…_

_But then Will was gone, and she was back in her old room, and someone was breathing on her in the darkness. _No. No no no,_ she thought, stiffening. _Not this, not this again…

_His weight was forcing her into the mattress, suffocating her. She didn't dare open her mouth, knowing that she would be sick, and she nearly gagged when his tongue slid between her lips. His fingers came next, plunging greedily into her underwear. She whimpered in shame when they found what they were looking for._

_Then he was pulling his hand away, and that was the only warning she got before he thrust into her and the real struggle began._

* * *

><p>"Keira. Keira!"<p>

She was still fighting him off when Spike's voice entered her conscious, so jarringly out of place in her bedroom that she hesitated, uncertain. What was going on?

"Keira?"

Her eyes flared open, and were instantly flooded by the harsh lights above her. Disoriented, she blinked rapidly and twisted against the hands pinning her down.

"Keira, it's me. It's Spike. You were having a nightmare."

At the word "nightmare," the memories came rushing back. They filled her veins, choking her. She was being swallowed whole.

"Where am I?" she asked, clutching her throat. She couldn't see—there was too much light—

"You're in my room," Spike explained. His face slowly came into view, paler than she remembered it. "You fell asleep while we were watching _The Godfather_."

Now she could hear the movie in the background. Gunshots, each of them ricocheting around in her head. She couldn't breathe.

"Excuse me," she whispered. Sliding off the bed, she stumbled blindly in the direction of Spike's bathroom and closed the door behind her. Almost immediately, she recoiled: the white tile was glaringly bright. Her hands were trembling so much that she could scarcely open the toilet.

She knelt down, wincing when her bones crunched into the floor, but nothing came out of her stomach. The nausea dissipated a moment later, leaving her to wipe her clammy palms on her legs and cringe at her nakedness. Familiar tears welled up in her eyes, tears of anger and humiliation. She brushed them away, and again when they returned.

There was a knock on the door. "Keira?"

She didn't want Spike. She wanted Will, and the old blue comforter he used to draw over her as she cried herself to sleep in his arms. But it was Wednesday night and Will was sitting somewhere with Cassie, and they were smiling and laughing while she shivered alone in a bathroom. Will was gone, and it was all her fault.

More knocking. "Keira, are you all right?"

"Just a minute," she managed, rising unsteadily to her feet. She stared at her ghost-like reflection in the mirror, then turned on the faucet and splashed water across her face. She was still shaking from the nightmare, flinching every time she felt herself being smothered. Helpless. Unable to escape, or even scream, knowing that no one would save her. Trapped inside her own fucking bedroom.

She slapped more water into her face, then gripped her arms so tightly that her nails drew blood. The pain was enough to bring her back to reality, and she looked around for a towel to soak up the water she'd spilt on the tile. Once she was done cleaning up, she wrapped the towel around herself, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing herself to meet Spike's concerned gaze. "I didn't mean to…"

"No, no, don't apologize," Spike replied, frowning. "Just talk. Was it about the job?"

"What?" she asked blankly.

"Your nightmare." Spike reached out to steady her as she staggered back to his bed. "Was it about the job?"

She shook her head. "Where are my clothes?"

Spike retrieved the sweater she'd discarded at the foot of the bed. "Hang on, I'll find your jeans—"

"No, it's okay." Her voice was barely recognizable. She felt Spike's worried gaze on her as she pulled the sweater over her head, grateful for the few seconds in which her face was hidden. Drawing her legs up beneath her, she concentrated on taking deep breaths. She was not going to fall to pieces like this, not in front of Spike.

"Talk," he urged her, laying his palm over her knee. She tried not to flinch at his touch.

"It's nothing," she replied. "Just a nightmare."

"A nightmare you're still freaked out about," Spike retorted. When she didn't respond, his frustrated sigh echoed in the silence. "Keira, I can't help you if you won't tell me what's going on."

"I don't need help," she insisted. _I just need you to be there for me, like Will used to be._

Spike gave her a skeptical look. "I'm starting to think that you do."

He might as well have slapped her in the face, because it wouldn't have done any more damage. "Did you seriously just say that I need therapy?" she demanded, yanking her leg out from under his hand.

"I don't know what else I can say," Spike replied curtly. "You want to shut everyone out? Fine. But you can't keep it up forever. Sooner or later, whatever it is that's… that's _eating_ you up inside is going to come out. And who the hell is going to be there for you when it does?"

"Will," she whispered without thinking.

"Will," Spike repeated in disbelief. "Do you know where Will is right now? He's on a date with Cassie, and their three-month anniversary is coming up, because you pushed him away so many times that he stopped coming back. Now all you have left with him is a fucked up friendship that's making you miserable every time he talks about her."

Tears were streaming down her face, but when she tried to wipe them away all she accomplished was making the back of her hand wet.

"Keira, I'm still here," Spike said urgently. "Please, just tell me what's going on. Let me help you."

She remembered what her mother had called her when she'd finally worked up the nerve to tell the truth.

She remembered the look on Jason's face.

"I can't," she choked out.

"Why not?"

"You make it sound so easy," she snapped, leaping off of the bed and starting to hunt for her jeans. "You think all I have to do is open my fucking mouth and just _talk_ about my _feelings_ and everything'll be better, but you don't know shit about what I've—"

"Because you won't tell me anything!" he exploded.

"And why the hell can't you accept that?" she shrieked back, fishing her underwear off of the floor and yanking it on as fast as she could. "Why can't you just be like Will? He…"

She trailed off, suddenly realizing what she had just said. Spike was staring at her.

"I'm not Will," he replied stiffly.

She flushed. "That's not what I—"

"That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No, I—"

"Because if it is, then maybe we should cool things off for a while." Spike couldn't disguise the hurt in his voice; Keira wasn't sure if he was even trying.

"Would you just listen to me for a second?" she begged, wishing she'd said anything but what had come out of her mouth. "I don't want you to _be_ Will, I just want you to be there for me like he was. Without asking questions."

The look Spike gave her chilled her to the bone. "And how did that work out for the two of you?"


	24. Monday Morning Mysteries

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Monday Morning Mysteries**

Mondays, in Donna Sabine's opinion, did not deserve their miserable reputations. There was something incredibly invigorating about waking up in the morning and jumping into your coffee-fueled routine, which for Donna had previously entailed working undercover for Toronto's narcotics department. Exactly one week ago, however, she had beaten out twenty-nine other candidates for a highly coveted position on SRU's Team One—a change in career that she was more than ready for, having spent the past several years hiding her true profession. Now, at last, she could openly wear the colloquial "cool pants."

Which wasn't to say that she only valued her new job because of the wardrobe, but it was definitely a plus.

She entered the SRU headquarters right on time that morning, making her way past various members of other teams and greeting them with a nod or a smile. Most of them she already knew by face, and she hoped to have the names down soon.

When she stepped into the locker room, her eyebrows lifted: the main bench was covered with clothes, ranging from an old sweatshirt to a very black, very lacy bra. Scattered amongst the garments were hair ties, headphones, sneakers, a box of tampons, and God knew what else. In the midst of the chaos sat Keira Ford, the only other female member of Team One, staring at her cell phone with a frown on her face.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Donna asked.

Keira's head snapped up, an action she timed perfectly with closing her phone so that Donna couldn't read the text message. "They're not worth that much," she replied, her eyes darting to the mess around her. "Sorry about all this crap." She gathered her belongings and shoved them unceremoniously over to one side, leaving half of the bench for Donna.

"Not a problem." Donna advanced into the locker room, all the while thinking that she would have given much more than a penny to get inside her coworker's head. She had already more or less figured out her way around the other members of Team One, but Keira remained a firmly closed book. All of Donna's usual conversation starters—and she had a lot of them, thanks to her undercover days—had fallen completely flat, with Keira either unresponsive or borderline hostile toward her overtures.

She tried not to take it personally. Sam Braddock didn't seem to like her, either—but she had noticed that he regularly visited Jules, the officer she'd replaced, and she had her guesses as to why he was keeping his distance. It was possible that Keira had been close to Jules and resented Donna for taking the spot; she could understand that, even though they were going to have to work around it eventually. And yet… somehow, she didn't think that was the reason.

"Happy Monday," Keira said after a moment of awkward silence.

Donna grinned. "Best day of the week."

Keira gave a strained smile, as if she already regretted her moment of weakness. "I guess." She went back to her phone, carefully angling it so that the screen was tilted away from Donna.

Donna decided to cut her losses and head for her locker, where she busied herself by finding the pictures she had decided to hang up. The first photograph was of her and Hank, arm in arm at his family reunion. She couldn't help but smile, remembering how unnerved his mother had been to discover that she was an undercover cop. ("But, isn't that awfully _dangerous_?" she'd asked, her lips puckering.)

"Is that your boyfriend?"

She turned to face Keira, who looked just as surprised to hear herself speaking as Donna was. "I'm probably too old for boyfriends," Donna joked, earning the barest hint of a smile. "But yes. Hank. We've been together for three years."

Keira's lips formed a silent "wow." "He doesn't mind the late hours?"

"He's gotten used to it," Donna explained. "It was tough, though, at first. You know how it is."

Her attempt at camaraderie did not go over well. Instead of answering, Keira bent over and started lacing up her boots, tugging at the strings with an unnecessary amount of force.

Determined to at least make some headway, Donna persisted. "How about you? Anyone special in your life?"

"No." Keira finished the first boot and went onto the second. Not once in her movements did she look up or show any signs of wanting to elaborate.

_O-kay,_ Donna thought, turning back to her locker. Maybe it was the Monday morning factor, or a nerve that Donna was striking, or Keira herself; but the message, in any case, was clear: _stop talking to me_.

Keira got up and headed over to the sinks, effectively ending the non-conversation; Donna, meanwhile, finished decorating her locker and began undressing. As she dropped her shirt and bra on the bench, she saw Keira's phone light up. "New message—Spike," the screen read.

Donna glanced at the sinks, but Keira was busy brushing her teeth and hadn't noticed. Wondering if Spike had something to do with Keira's mood (now that she thought of it, there was definitely a weird dynamic between the two of them), Donna fished an old t-shirt out of her bag and quickly threw it on. She didn't want to be late for workout.

Keira reemerged from the bathroom, studiously ignoring Donna while she picked up her phone and read the message. Her frown deepened.

"Something wrong?" Donna couldn't resist asking.

_Snap._ Keira had closed the phone again. "No. See you out there." She walked out of the locker room without so much as another word, leaving all of her belongings on the bench.

Donna stared after her in disbelief. "_Wow._" She remembered her initial impression of Keira: an introverted young woman who lacked conversational skills, but tried to make up for it with the occasional glance or smile. Either she was having a bad day, or she was a lot ruder than Donna had realized.

A few minutes later, still puzzling over Keira's mysterious behavior, Donna left the locker room and started heading toward the gym. While she was walking through the lobby, she happened upon another teammate: Will McKnight, who was leaning against the reception desk and opening a protein bar.

Donna slowed down to talk to him: unlike Keira, Will could always be counted on for a good conversation. "Looks like someone's running late," she teased him, nodding over to the gym where the rest of the team was getting started on their workout.

"I slept through my alarm," Will muttered sheepishly. "Didn't have time for breakfast, so…" He bit into the protein bar, grimacing at the taste.

"That looks like shit."

"Tastes like it, too."

Something occurred to Donna then, and she asked, "Hey, you're close with Keira, right?" She vaguely remembered someone mentioning that they'd gone to high school together.

Will nodded casually, but Donna noticed that he was suddenly standing a little straighter. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Has she… said anything to you about me? I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I'm not sure how."

"Did something happen?" Will asked, frowning.

Donna quietly recounted their terse exchange in the locker room. "I don't know if I pissed her off or something—"

Will was already shaking his head. "She's not mad at you," he replied. "She's just… not shy, but it takes her a while to open up to people. It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"You sure about that?"

"Definitely. Besides, she likes you."

Donna blinked. "She does?"

"Yeah." Will grinned. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but apparently Spike and Lou were planning on putting itching powder in your shoes last Friday. They asked Keira to do it, but she refused and actually kind of reamed them out over it. Said it was a stupid prank and that it would ruin your weekend."

The surprise must have registered in Donna's face, because Will smiled and said, "She's an amazing person once you get to know her. Just give her some time. Oh, and"—like he'd just remembered something—"if you want my advice? The easiest thing to talk to her about is her brother or her nephew, but I wouldn't ask her about anything more personal than that. If she wants you to know something, she'll tell you."

Before Donna could inquire further, Spike's voice rang out from the gym.

"Hey! What are you two slackers doing over there?"

* * *

><p>Keira firmly believed that the world would be a much better place if Mondays were simply wiped off the calendar, and this particular Monday was no exception. Not only had she had to deal with the usual cranky assholes on the road that morning, but she had also gotten a text from Spike canceling their plans for the evening—which she had been looking forward to, in spite of how awkward their relationship had become.<p>

It had been a month since their last argument, since she'd blurted out that she wanted him to be more like Will. Afterward, at Jason's urging, she had tried to talk to Spike about it; but he'd asked her, quietly, to drop it. And so they'd gone back to their usual routine… or attempted to, anyway. But it wasn't the same anymore, no matter how hard they tried to pretend otherwise. The memories continued to haunt them, creating awkward silences and cleared throats where before there had been only laughter.

Sometimes, when they were at his house, Spike got a faraway look in his eyes—as if he wasn't seeing her, but rather something else that they both now knew was never going to happen. She had chosen Will over him that night, no matter how unintentionally; and the truth was, Will had become wedged in between them long before they'd even realized it.

Which was why, when Keira received the text saying _Lou invited me to some weird speed-dating thing, do you mind if we reschedule?_, she'd been disappointed but not surprised. It wasn't the first time he'd canceled on her in the past couple of weeks: last Wednesday he'd pleaded exhaustion, and the Friday before that Lou's family had invited him over for dinner. Even though he was always apologetic, she knew that she'd hurt him in ways that he would never tell her; she couldn't exactly blame him for wanting space.

Meanwhile, as if the Monday weren't bad enough already, she'd had an incredibly stilted conversation with Donna in their locker room, which had mostly involved her coming across as a complete and total bitch. She didn't remember the specifics, only that she'd had Spike and Will on her mind when Donna had asked her if she was in a relationship—and then something had tightened painfully inside of her, rerouting her body to "flight" mode, until all she could think about was her desperate need to get away from the other woman's questions.

She'd spent most of the shift berating herself for being such an idiot. The worst part was, she actually kind of wanted to be friends with Donna. She'd seen her interacting with the others, how she took everything they dished out and served it right back, and she couldn't help but admire how easily she was able to ingratiate herself with them. She was a bit like Will, in that respect—Keira imagined that you could drop the two of them in a room full of strangers, and they'd have no problem at all getting to know everyone.

But every time Donna talked to her, it was _So, where are you from?_ and _Anyone special in your life?_ and all those other questions that made her freeze and wonder why people couldn't stick to banal remarks about the weather (or even just prattling on about themselves). Today, Keira had had the added misfortune of being distracted by thoughts of Spike; so she'd been caught off-guard, and panicked, and made an ass of herself as a result.

"Training for the marathon?"

Keira started at the sound of Will's voice and nearly lost her footing on the treadmill, an accident that was only prevented by her jabbing rapidly at the down arrow on the machine in order to reduce the speed. "Jesus Christ," she grumbled, looking down into his sparkling gaze. "Thanks for sneaking up on me."

Will chuckled. "You probably shouldn't have been going that fast, anyway. If we got a call now, you'd have massive leg cramps."

Wrinkling her nose at him, Keira replied, "I'd manage. Shouldn't you be getting in some cardio?"

"Did that this morning," Will reported. "I'm going to hit the weights once Spike and Lou are done."

Keira had absolutely no objections to that whatsoever, seeing as how she had an excellent view of the dumbbell rack—which translated into major Will eye candy. (Unfortunately, she still had to pretend that blonde-haired, tiny-waisted, perfect Cassie didn't exist… but she'd take what she could get.)

"You can share the weights with them, you know," she said, smirking. Now _that_ would be eye candy.

Will, however, shrugged. "I'll just wait. And distract you from your workout."

She was about to swat him with her water bottle when the familiar, piercing sound of the hot call siren rang throughout the gym, followed immediately by Winnie's voice: "Team One, we have an in-progress suicide attempt, I repeat: in-progress suicide attempt, a teenage girl is standing on the roof of an apartment building and preparing to jump…"

As Winnie rattled off the address, Keira hopped down from the treadmill and was immediately crippled by a series of cramps. "Ah—shit—" she gasped, massaging her aching thigh muscles.

"I _told _you…" Will couldn't stop grinning.

"Oh, fuck off."

"Don't you just love Mondays?" Will asked. He knew, of course, that she had developed a deep-seated hatred for them in high school, when the usual Monday morning drudgery was often compounded by the lingering effects of a hangover.

"Why do I have a feeling that this one's just going to get worse and worse?" Keira muttered.

She had no idea how right she was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** As you might have guessed, the next chapter's going to be pretty intense. It's also, unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your viewpoint), the beginning of the end for Keira's story. Although I don't know for sure, I'm thinking we're on the last ten—max fifteen—chapters of Breathe. I've got three major events planned, and then it'll be time to wrap up.

On a side note - I tried to watch the Season 4 episode where Donna talks about Hank, but I was unable to find it anywhere (although I've already ordered the season on DVD! Very exciting). So, if that episode contradicts anything I've said about him in this chapter, please let me know!


	25. Speak

**A/N #1:**I have some very sad news - it's been announced that the next season of Flashpoint is going to be its last. =( It's so frustrating when shows like NCIS and CSI: Whatever keep getting renewed, but Flashpoint has to end so soon. I'm just glad they'll have time to wrap everything up and give some sort of closure for all the characters' story lines.

**A/N #2:** On a... still somewhat depressing note, the title for this chapter came from Laurie Halse Anderson's amazing young adult novel _Speak_, which I highly recommend for all ages.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five: Speak<strong>

Half an hour after receiving the hot call at the station (during which she'd experienced some of the worst leg cramps of her life, much to Will's amusement), Keira found herself standing beside Wordy, listening as he questioned the mother of the teenage girl who was preparing to jump off the roof of their seven-story apartment building.

"I know you're afraid, ma'am. I know you're upset," Wordy said consolingly, watching as the woman buried her face in her hands and sobbed. "But we need you to try and tell us what you think is going on with your daughter. If we can figure out why she's up there, we'll be able to help her better."

Greg was already on the roof, trying to stall the poor girl while the others were handling the rest of the job: establishing a perimeter around the scene, talking to witnesses, getting in touch with the local high school, and—in Spike's case—digging up all the records available on Alice Brown, the teenager in question.

"I just don't understand," Ms. Brown gasped, her chest rising and falling unsteadily. "There's nothing wrong with her. I don't know why she's doing this. She's always—she's always been so normal—" Her voice broke on the last word.

Keira shifted uncomfortably: the apartment lobby was starting to feel claustrophobic. She suspected that, as the token female police officer in the room, she was expected to somehow comfort the woman while Wordy questioned her—but she'd never been good at that sort of thing, and right now she wished that she had been given something else to do.

"Has she been under any stress lately? Anything going on at home, school? Bullying? Relationship problems? Friendship problems? Eating disorders?" Wordy inquired.

Ms. Brown shook her head in bewilderment. "N-No," she stammered, wiping at the corners of her eyes. "Nothing's going on here, her grades have been the same as always, and I just had a meeting with her guidance counselor last week—sh-she would have told me if there was any bullying."

Keira couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at that. _What the hell do guidance counselors know about anything?_ she wondered in disgust. Especially now, when it was so easy to bully someone via texting or the internet—which didn't take place in an environment controlled by teachers and administrators. It wasn't something visible, not like shoving a kid into a locker. And that wasn't even taking into account all the shit some of the students had to deal with at home, where they were really on their own. None of _her_ guidance counselors had ever noticed any of that.

Luckily, Ms. Brown didn't see Keira's skeptical expression. "A-Alice isn't in a relationship, either," she continued shakily, "and her friends are fine. I-In fact, she just went to a party with them this weekend.'

"A party?" Keira interjected, straightening. "What kind of party?"

Wordy shot her a quick look, but didn't intervene.

"J-Just a party," Ms. Brown replied, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "I-I mean… well, you know, I-I assume it was the usual teenage party, with… with alcohol, and all that, but—she won't be in trouble, will she?" she asked anxiously.

"No, ma'am, we're not here to punish anyone," Wordy assured her. "All we want right now is to get your daughter back to you, safe and sound."

"Can you give us more information about this party?" Keira asked sharply, irritated by the tangent. "When was it? Friday or Saturday?"

"S-Saturday," Ms. Brown answered, blinking rapidly. "I don't… I don't understand—why does it matter?"

"And have you talked to her since then?" Keira pressed, driven on by memories of a different party, a party she should never have gone to.

"Well, n-not really," Ms. Brown admitted, flushing. "She… She had a bad hangover, and stayed in bed all day. And, well, you know how it is… I've had some bad hangovers, myself, so I let her sleep it off. And then she had school this morning, so…"

"So, you haven't spoken to your daughter since she came back from this party?"

"I—where are you going with this?" Ms. Brown demanded, looking askance at Keira.

"Keira, maybe you should let me—" Wordy began, but Keira cut him off.

"What I'm going with this is," she told Ms. Brown, trying to be patient: "if you're right, and nothing's been going on with her—no bullying, nothing at home, no friendship or relationship problems, no eating disorders, or any of that"—_And that's a big 'if,'_ Keira thought to herself—"then something must have happened recently to trigger her. You said she went to a party, and that she didn't get out of bed the following day. Maybe it was just a hangover, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Do you know the names of any of the friends she was with that night?"

"Uh… uh, yes," Ms. Brown replied, blinking rapidly. "She w-went with Jenny. Jenny Montgomery. They're—they're best friends. Jenny lives in the same building as us."

Keira's eyebrows shot up. "Is Jenny here right now?" she asked.

"I… She should be," Ms. Brown answered faintly. "Th-They always walk home from school together."

Keira quickly patched into the line Will, Sam, and Lou were using as they questioned bystanders. "Hey, have you guys found anyone by the name of Jenny Montgomery?" she asked into the headset, hoping that the answer was a nice and easy "yes."

What she got instead were three separate "nos."

"The M-Montgomerys live on the fourth floor," Ms. Brown offered. "They're the fifth door on the left, number nine."

"I'll go up there," Wordy volunteered. At a nod from Keira, he jogged off towards the stairs.

"Do you have Jenny's number, in case she's not around?" Keira questioned Ms. Brown as Wordy disappeared.

"I, uh…" Ms. Brown began digging around in her purse, though her hands were shaking and it was a full minute before she resurfaced with her cell phone. "I-I have her mother's number. Is that okay?"

Keira nodded, and Ms. Brown tried to busy herself by browsing through her contacts. Soon, however, her lip trembled and she dropped her phone back into her purse. Keira braced herself for it, and less than a second later it came: a loud wail of despair, an explosion of terror and helplessness that wracked the woman's body with sobs.

"I-I-I d-don't under—under_stand_," Ms. Brown cried, choking on her grief and frustration. "W-Why would she d-do something like this?"

Keira winced, wishing she had something better than a stockpile of cliché phrases. "That's what we're hoping to find out," she managed; yet it was a hideously inadequate response to a woman whose world was unraveling all around her, and she couldn't help but think that Donna would have been much more suited to the task. But Donna was in the command truck, which meant that she and Ms. Brown were stuck with each other.

"Why can't I go to her?" Ms. Brown demanded, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "Why won't you let me see her?"

"Because we don't know how seeing you is going to affect her," Keira explained patiently, though inside she felt as if she were reciting from a textbook. She was slipping away from Ms. Brown, detaching from the woman's anxiety, ready to build walls around herself if necessary. "Depending on how things go, Sergeant Parker might ask her if she wants to talk to you—but only if he thinks it'll help. Sometimes the kids get even more upset when they see their parents, no matter how supportive the parents are."

Ms. Brown let out a low moan and curled in on herself, overcome by tears once more. Keira silently watched her, not knowing what else to do. She thought of Jules, who was much better at this sort of thing: she always seemed to have something to say, her voice firm and yet gentle at the same time, which put the subjects at ease and calmed them down enough to function. Keira hoped that more experience on the job would help her in this regard, because right now she didn't have a damn clue.

It felt like an eternity of Ms. Brown's sobs had passed before Keira's headset crackled again. "Guys, I've got Alice's best friend with me," Wordy announced over the main line, his voice heavy. "She's saying that Alice was raped at a party this weekend. A football player named Justin Kemp. He didn't keep quiet about it, either. According to the friend, a bunch of kids at school today were calling her things like 'slut,' 'whore,' etcetera."

Keira froze, barely registering the collective intake of breath from the others. Ms. Brown, oblivious to the news and still weeping in her chair, suddenly seemed a million miles away.

For a few seconds, no one said a word.

"All right, I've got Justin Kemp's records in front of me," Spike announced, audible typing noises in the background. "The guy lives at 14 Landsdown Street. He doesn't have any priors."

Ed's voice came through. "Spike, send the address to Lou's phone. Lou—happy day for you, you get to make the arrest. See if he can tell you anything else before you get the handcuffs on. Greg, how's it going with the girl?"

Greg sighed and reported, "I haven't been able to make any headway with her. She's been moving closer to the edge the entire time we've been talking, and I can tell she's starting to escalate: she's getting paranoid, having trouble breathing, and she keeps telling me to leave her alone. I don't think I'm the best man for the job—in fact, in light of what Wordy's told us, I think the best man for the job is a woman."

Something cold settled in the pit of Keira's stomach. If Greg decided to let her cut her teeth as a negotiator on this case, of all cases… _Please pick Donna, please pick Donna, please pick Donna,_ she silently begged.

This time, when Greg Parker's voice came in over the headset, he was only addressing her. "Keira," he asked somberly, "are you up for this?"

* * *

><p>Keira was trembling when she met Parker on top of the roof. She was half-afraid that she'd faint, vomit, or both—and the knot in her stomach tightened painfully when she saw Alice. A diminutive teenager with mousy brown hair and skin as pale as snow, she was half-turned towards the edge and shivering in the cold air. She looked like someone who would blend into the walls in her high school, someone whose name wouldn't have been recognized by half her classmates until a popular jock was suddenly calling her a slut.<p>

"All right, Keira, how are you feeling?" Greg asked her in an undertone.

"Fine, sir," Keira lied, hoping that he wouldn't see how much her hands were shaking.

He did. "Don't be nervous," he told her in a fatherly tone—or what she imagined was a fatherly tone, though nothing remotely close to it had ever been directed at her. "I'll be right there on the line, walking you through it. Just remember: you're not here to judge her story, or to tell her if she could have done something to prevent it from happening. What Alice needs is someone who will believe her, someone who will tell her that she's not alone and that she can get help. Connect, respect, protect."

"I know," Keira said, taking several deep breaths. She wasn't religious in the slightest, but now was as good a time as any to start praying. _Please, don't let me screw this one up,_ she begged whomever was up there. It wasn't just the fact that Alice's life was hanging in the balance, though that alone was enough to make her break out in a sweat—it was also the silent pressure of all her teammates, including Will, listening in through their headphones. Alice's responses might not come through to them perfectly, but everything she said would be crystal clear.

"Good luck," Greg told her, before retreating into the shadows.

Keira was left to slowly advance further out onto the roof. "Hi, Alice," she called out, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

"Don't come any closer!" Alice yelled back, her voice wavering as she looked uncertainly towards the edge of the roof. "I just want you people to leave me alone!"

"All right, I'm staying where I am," Keira said, holding up her hands as if in surrender. "Alice, my name's Keira Ford. I'm a friend of Greg's. We're both worried about you."

Even from a distance, she could see Alice rolling her watery eyes. "Yeah, right," she retorted, glaring at Keira. "Do you get paid less if I jump off this thing?"

In any other situation, Keira would have laughed. Right now, all she could manage was a wry smile. "Not to my knowledge," she replied. "Greg and I aren't the only ones concerned about you, though. Your mother's really worried about you, Alice"—the girl stifled a sob—"and so is your friend Jenny."

Alice froze. "Y-You talked to Jenny?" she stammered.

Keira could barely hear her over the wind, but she didn't want to ask for permission to move closer—not yet, anyway, not when she had so recently promised to stay put. "We talked to Jenny," she confirmed, struggling to maintain a balance between loud and gentle. "She told us about Justin."

Alice's face crumpled with misery, a heart-wrenching prelude to the choking sobs that escaped her seconds later. Keira felt a sharp spike of fear, but the girl didn't move closer to the ledge; instead she kept crying, her entire body shaking with grief.

Keira had never met Justin Kemp before, but all of a sudden she wanted nothing more than to castrate him with a pair of scissors. An extremely dull pair of scissors.

"Alice, I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she said, her voice wavering. "I know how awful you must be feeling."

Alice couldn't speak, she was crying so hard.

"And what the kids at school said—that makes it even worse, doesn't it?" Keira asked, a lump in her throat.

Alice nodded, her chest heaving as she gulped desperately for air.

"I know it seems like you're alone right now," Keira said, torn between visions of repeatedly slamming Justin Kemp's head into something (preferably made of concrete) and memories of a long-ago party. And then that moment, the too-late moment when she had realized…

_Focus!_ she yelled at herself, struggling to maintain her grip on the situation.

"I know it seems like you're alone," she repeated, swallowing, "but you're not. Your mother and Jenny are worried sick about you. And I… Well, God knows I'm probably not your favorite person right now; but I really want to help you, Alice. I know what it's like—"

"No, you don't!" Alice yelled at her, finally recovering her voice. "You don't know what it's like to hear everyone saying that—that you were _asking_ for it o-or that you should be g-_grateful_ someone like him w-would go after s-someone as _ugly_ as you—"

"She's right, Keira," Greg muttered in her ear. "Every survivor has their own experience. You don't have to understand—just respect what she's going through."

Keira wanted to scream at him. _I_ do _understand, you jackass,_ she thought, trembling with rage. _I understand more than you could ever fucking imagine._

Composing herself, she told Alice, "You're right. I don't know what it's like to hear those things—"

"See?" Alice demanded, stepping backward. Keira wouldn't have been surprised if, for a split second, her heart actually stopped. "You don't know what it's like. None of you know. And now you're up here, telling me that you _understand_ and that you're _sorry_ for what I've been through when you don't have a clue. Just leave me alone!" She staggered away from Keira, her feet mere inches from the long drop.

In a panic, Keira called, "Alice, wait!"

And, miraculously, Alice stopped. "What?" she snarled, looking almost wistfully over the edge.

"When I told you I didn't know what it was like," Keira began, her heart pounding as she inched closer and closer to something she had been avoiding for years, "I meant that I don't know what it's like to face that kind of humiliation at school. But I do know…" She faltered, her thoughts in so much turmoil that she could barely speak. How could she tell Alice, when before she had only told Jason? How could she tell Alice when it wasn't just Alice who would find out, but every last one of her teammates… including, especially, Will?

_If you don't connect with her,_ the unbidden warning came to mind, _you might lose your only chance at saving her._

_I can't do this,_ another part of her protested. _I can't let them know what happened to me._

_Then you might as well take out your gun and shoot her,_ the first voice retorted, _because she's going to jump off that building if you don't do something right now._

"You know what?" Alice demanded, her frustration visibly mounting when Keira didn't respond. In a flash, Keira recognized the expression on her face: desperation. _Throw me a line,_ she was silently pleading. _Give me a reason to stay._

"Keira, are you there?" Greg asked her, his voice sounding as if it were coming from another continent.

And Keira understood, in that instant, that she would have to destroy her life in order to save someone else's.

"I know," she began unsteadily, locking eyes with Alice, "what it's like to be raped."

For a moment, there was utter silence as the walls started to crumble.


	26. Stripped

**Warning:** This chapter deals heavily with the subject of rape, including flashbacks. Nothing graphic, but there may still be triggers.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six: Stripped<strong>

"Y-You do?" Alice stammered, long before Keira was ready to face the wreckage. "Y-You've been…?"

"I've been raped." Keira cringed at each harsh syllable. The lone silver lining on the thunder cloud was that, mercifully, her headset was only patched into Greg's. She couldn't hear what the others were saying, which was a marginally comforting if completely false sense of security.

"H-How did it… did it happen?" Alice asked haltingly, her eyes scanning Keira's for signs that the officer was telling the truth.

Keira flinched: there were a lot of ways she could answer that question, each one of them worse than its predecessor. She had no choice but to settle on the party, that last party where the tenuous threads holding her old life together had snapped. As long as the others were listening in, it was the only memory she could share.

While she was deliberating on what to say, Greg's hesitant voice sounded in her ear. "If you feel comfortable, tell her what you can—but back off if she starts getting upset. We don't want to trigger her. The most important thing to let her know is that there is support out there for her."

Keira swallowed. "Alice," she said, her voice raised, "before I start talking… do you mind if I move a little closer? I promise I won't do anything," she added as Alice's hackles visibly raised, "but I just… I don't really want to yell the story across the roof, you know?"

Alice hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Keira slowly advanced, coming to a stop ten feet away from the teenager. She was rewarded with a murmur of approval from Greg.

"Is this okay?" she asked Alice, gesturing towards the distance between them.

Alice muttered that it was fine, then looked expectantly at Keira—who suddenly felt like vomiting, who couldn't even bring herself to imagine the expression on Will's face as he finally learned the reason why she had left him. Before she could lose her nerve, before she had any more time to think, she took a deep breath and began.

"When I was… when I was a freshman in college, not much older than you are now," she told Alice, "I used to, uh, party a lot. I'd go out every weekend and get trashed, just because I could." Maybe the background information wasn't strictly necessary—but she needed time to ease herself into the memories, mentally preparing herself for the blows.

Meanwhile, the longer she spoke, the longer Alice stayed on the roof.

"Luckily," Keira continued, her eyes briefly closing as she thought of Will, "I had an amazing boyfriend who was always there to watch out for me. He made sure I didn't get into trouble, brought me home whenever I got too drunk… Something I took for granted.

"But, one weekend towards the end of the semester, he had a final the next Monday and couldn't go out with me. I was… I was done with all my finals, and of course I just wanted to party. My boyfriend told me, 'Keira, I promise I'll make it up to you next weekend, but please don't go out. I know how you get when you're drunk, and I don't want any guys taking advantage of that.'"

She remembered every word of that conversation like it had happened yesterday—how many times, after all, had she replayed it over in her mind, only to alter the scenario so that, instead of scoffing at Will, she agreed and decided to stay in for the weekend? And always, always, there was that nagging sense of guilt: _you should have listened to him._

"I told him he was worrying too much," she said, noting with relief that Alice appeared rooted to the spot, "and that I was going with friends who would keep an eye on me. But my friends decided to pregame before the party, so we were all pretty drunk when we showed up—and I was drunk enough to not pay attention to where my drinks were coming from."

She remembered laughing. Laughing with her friends as she danced, plastic red cup in hand, too wasted to care that her skirt was riding up her ass. Someone had strung up cheap Chinese lanterns throughout the dorm, which fluttered and twinkled in the corner of her blurry vision.

"To this day," she told Alice unsteadily, "I don't know who slipped something into my drink, or even what they put into it. All I know is that one minute I was dancing, and the next I felt like I'd run into a wall. Everything was spinning, my head was throbbing, and I couldn't find my friends."

"_What the hell?"_ _someone yelled at her as she tripped over their feet, knocking over the cup they were carrying. She grimaced and tried to wipe off some of the beer that had splashed onto her face, but her hand refused to cooperate. "Watch where you're going, you fucking cunt!"_

"_Sorry," she muttered, staggering away from him. Where was Will? Why couldn't she remember where he had gone?_

"I had no idea what was wrong with me. I just…" Keira swallowed, trying to stave off the steadily rising lump in her throat. "I just wanted my boyfriend to get me out of there. So, when someone told me they'd bring me to him, I went with them."

"_Woah, hey there," she heard as she stumbled into someone. "What's the matter, babe?" A heavy arm draped around her shoulders._

"_Will," she mumbled, leaning into the person's chest. "Need Will…"_

_Laughter. "All right, whatever you say," he replied, starting to steer her through the crowd._

"_Will," she insisted, barely able to breathe through the navy fabric of his shirt. Or maybe it was purple. Brown. Red? She couldn't put her finger on the color… "Will," she repeated, reminding herself._

"_Yeah, yeah, we'll get you Will."_

_She sighed in relief. "Good."_

"I don't remember much after that," Keira said, wiping at the tears that had started to gather in her eyelids. Through the glittering haze, she saw Alice wincing. "I just remember… I just remember waking up at one point, a-and someone was on top of me. I could feel him… I knew he was raping me."

_Pain. A dull pain between her legs. She blinked in confusion, wondering where she was, why she was lying on something soft. Why she couldn't breathe._

"_I bet you like this, don't you," someone slurred in her ear._

_No, no, she didn't like it, because she couldn't move, couldn't feel her body, and the voice was on top of her and inside her and no, no no no no no it was happening again and Will wasn't there to help her and she hadn't even lasted a semester away from Jim oh God not this anything but this and she wanted to throw up but she couldn't because he was smothering her and she needed Will, needed him to rescue her._

_But Will never came._

"What did you do?" Alice asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She was white as a ghost, shivering in the wind—and even though Keira could scarcely see her through the tears now streaming down her own face, she recognized the girl's expression as someone trapped in a storm of hellish memories. The two of them were mirror images of each other.

"_You've got the fucking ugliest tits ever."_

_It took several seconds for his words to make sense, for her to realize that his hands had wandered and that her shirt was somewhere down around her waist._

"_You look like one of those fucking Jew corpses from the Holocaust. Wouldn't bother if you weren't so drunk. Bet you're a huge slut, aren't you?"_

"I couldn't do anything," Keira replied, practically choking on her humiliation. "I felt like—like—have you ever gotten sleep paralysis?"

Alice hesitated, then asked, "What's that?"

Grateful to have something to talk about other than her rape, Keira explained, "At some point during your sleep cycle, your body shuts down your muscles so you can't act out while you're dreaming. If you wake up while that's happening, it's like you're paralyzed. You… You know what's going on around you, but you can't move."

"I-I've gotten that before," Alice admitted, grimacing.

"Yeah, it sucks," Keira remarked, smiling a little as she wiped her eyes. "That's what the drug—whatever it was—did to me. So I couldn't… I literally couldn't lift a finger to stop him. Eventually I passed out again, and when I woke up he was gone."

She had been lying on a couch, both her skirt and shirt pooled around her waist. There was dried come on everything: her breasts, her stomach, her clothes. When she moved, crushed beer cans crinkled beneath her and cut into her skin. No one else was in the room—not awake, anyway. Slumbering bodies littered the surrounding chairs and floor.

That was all she'd had time to observe before she started crying, before the tears made it impossible to see anything else.

"W-What did you do?" Alice asked unsteadily, hanging onto her every word. "Did you call the police?"

Keira shook her head. "I completely lost it," she admitted. "I called my brother at four in the morning and begged him to come get me. I told him I couldn't stay there anymore."

"_Jason, _please_," she sobbed into the phone, trying not to look at her clothes. "I can't go here, please, I need to leave…"_

"_Keira, I'm coming to get you no matter what," Jason told her, audibly struggling to maintain a calm voice. "But are you sure you want to drop out? Why don't you take a few weeks off, or even a semester, and see how you feel then?"_

"_I can't!" Keira cried, nauseated by the suggestion. "I don't want to ever see this place again, I can't—I'm sorry, I know how much you did to get me here—"_

"_Don't apologize," Jason cut her off. "You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn't your fault."_

"_Yes, it is," she wailed, curling over on the bench. Her pounding headache was a testament to how stupid she had been—if she had just stayed in, like Will said, none of this would have happened._

"_No, it's _not_," Jason insisted vehemently. "Look, I'm about twelve hours from you, so I'll get there as soon as I can." She could hear him hurrying around his apartment in Edmonton, hastily gathering his things together. "Are you going to be all right until then? Do you have any place to go?"_

"_I'll be fine," she managed, trembling._

_After a pause, Jason asked, "What about Will?"_

"I basically packed all of my things and left," Keira told Alice, "without saying goodbye to anyone—not even my boyfriend. I wasn't like you, Alice; I was too ashamed to stick around after what had happened." She cleared her throat and looked Alice straight in the eye, praying that her next words hit home. "Which is why I'm so impressed by your bravery, by the fact that you were able to go to school today and face everyone—even when they were saying all those horrible things about you, even with Justin there. You showed a lot of courage today, Alice. I know it might not seem like that, but you did."

"Good job, Keira, keep it going," Greg murmured in her ear.

"Like I have a lot of courage now," Alice replied bitterly, gesturing towards her surroundings.

Keira bit her lip, then made a gamble. "Alice, I think you're underestimating yourself." The stricken look on Alice's face told her she had hit a chord; emboldened, she pressed on. "I think you're overwhelmed, upset, and hurt—but I promise you, it will get better. You've got so much to live for, Alice: you've got your mom, your friend Jenny, and you're going to be graduating from high school soon. I heard you got into OCAD?" It was the last thing Alice's mother had told her before she'd gone onto the roof.

Alice nodded, breaking down into tears again.

"That sounds like an amazing place," Keira said. The Ontario College of Art and Design was the oldest art college in Canada, and extremely selective to boot. "I bet you really want to go there, don't you."

Alice nodded a second time, burying her face in her hands.

"And once you go there, you won't have to see the people from high school again," Keira went on, remembering the town she had left behind—and how, after ten years, Will was the only one of its residents whom she had run into. "Alice, you've got so much ahead of you," she added, a softer note in her voice. "You have a chance to leave this all behind and throw yourself into something you're incredibly passionate about."

"Is that what you did?" Alice asked, in hardly more than a whisper. She was eying Keira's uniform.

"Not at first." Keira had to force the words out of her throat, had to push and pull them when they tried to claw their way back down. "I was a mess once I left college. I didn't have another school to go to, or anything to distract me from what I was feeling—so after a while, I went back to partying. I started… I started going out every night and sleeping with any guy who would take me home with them," she confessed, her cheeks a bright, angry red. "I told myself, 'It doesn't matter, you've already been raped, it's not like they can do anything else.' I told myself I'd better get used to it, because I didn't think I deserved anything else. But I didn't get used to it—it just made me feel even worse than I already did. And I wasn't picking guys who cared about me, either; I was picking guys who probably could have been the guy at the party."

"_You're a good little whore, aren't you—mm—"_

_Keira winced, but kept going down on Jesse. (At least, she thought that was his name. It'd been hard to hear it over the noise in the bar.)_

"_Yeah, that's right, take it—more—"_

_She was doing the best she could, but Jesse was on the bigger side and there was only so much she could put in her mouth. Which was why she gave a muffled cry, and nearly gagged, when he grabbed her head and forced his entire length inside of her. She pushed at his thighs, trying to pull back, but he wouldn't let her move._

"_God, you're such a slut, I love it," Jesse panted, starting to thrust. Keira was practically choking on him; but when she clawed at his arms in a frantic bid for release, he just laughed at her. "Oh, you like it rough? I'll give it to you rough."_

_And he had her in such a tight hold that, in the end, there was nothing for her to do but try not to throw up as he pounded into her throat._

"It wasn't a good time in my life," Keira said, cringing as she wondered what her teammates thought of her now. What Will thought of her. "It's not something I'm proud of. And it's not something I can take back, no matter how much I wish I could. But you, Alice—right now, you haven't done anything that you can't undo. You can still go to art school. You can still pursue your dreams. You don't have to treat yourself the way I did, and I don't want you to. You have so many opportunities in front of you, just waiting for you to take them."

"I-I can't…" Alice's face crumpled in on itself as she started to cry again, wiping frantically at her eyes in a futile effort to keep the tears at bay.

"You're stronger than you think," Keira said gently. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but I know you can get through this. You're not alone."

"I-I can't tell my mom," Alice whimpered, digging her nails into her forehead. "I just can't…"

"Can't, or won't?"

When Alice didn't answer, Keira gave a strained smile. "I get what it's like, being afraid to tell anyone what happened. Did you know, Alice, that you're only the second person I've told?"

"R-Really?" Alice stammered.

"Really." _And if it weren't for these damn headsets,_ Keira thought grimly,_ no one else would have found out._ "It's been about a decade since I was raped, and I still haven't told my mom about it. But that's because my mom doesn't give a shit about me"—fuck, she hadn't meant to let that slip out—"and your mom, from what I've seen, is nothing like that. She just wants you home, safe and sound. Something tells me that she's not going to be ashamed of you, or try to blame you for what happened."

"But it _was_ my fault," Alice cried, the tears returning in full force. "E-Everyone at school was right. I-I was s-so _drunk_, and I had a huge crush on him…"

"Alice, honey, don't do this to yourself," Keira said, now more grateful than ever for the sexual assault seminars she'd had to attend in her job training. They had drilled into her what she had been trying to accept and articulate to herself for years, but had never been able to until she was stuck in that dimly lit classroom with a veteran officer—who, as it turned out, was also a survivor.

Remembering every last word of what the woman had told her, she now tried to impart her hard-won knowledge onto Alice: "Being raped is never the survivor's fault. The only person at fault here is Justin. He was the one who decided to rape you."

Alice's eyes were steadily widening—and in them, Keira imagined that she could see the tenuous beginnings of a connection, the distant promise of the finish line. Encouraged, she asked, "You want to know something else?"

The girl nodded meekly, and Keira thought: _Alice Brown, you are not going to die here. I'm bringing you home. _Forcing her exhaustion to the outermost edges of her conscious, she gave Alice everything she had left.

"No matter how drunk you were, no matter what you were wearing, no matter how much you liked him, you didn't 'ask for' what happened to you. Your classmates may have told you that, but they're wrong. They're so wrong, Alice, you might not even realize just how much. I know it took me years to realize that I wasn't responsible for some guy drugging and raping me. Sometimes I still get mad at myself for not listening to my boyfriend, even though deep down I know I didn't do anything wrong.

"It might seem right now like you're never going to be able to move past this—but you can, if you'll just let me help you," Keira continued, her voice taking on a pleading tone. "However you want to move on, you won't have to do it alone. We can get you counseling, if you want it. We can get you a lawyer, if you want one. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I promise I will support you and be there for you. Please, I am begging you, just give yourself another chance."

While she spoke, Alice's face was contorting into a myriad of expressions: hopeless, hopeful, and everything in between. At last, at long last, she took the first, halting step towards Keira. Then another, and another—until, finally, without warning, she flung herself into Keira's barely-ready arms.

"Excellent job, Keira," Parker said; but Keira didn't care, wouldn't care even if he had given her a medal of honor, because all she could worry about right now was making sure that she didn't completely break down in front of Alice.

"It's okay," she murmured, just as much to herself as to the sobbing teenager in her arms. "It's going to be okay, I promise."

And, together, the two of them walked away from the edge.


	27. Aftermath

**A/N: **Guys, I'm an idiot. I've been adding chapters and switching them around a lot with this story, and I forgot to make sure that the numbers in the chapter titles still corresponded with their actual order. The point being that I had two chapters titled "Chapter Twenty-Seven" on the document, and I posted the one that was actually supposed to be "Chapter Twenty-Eight." Given that you can apparently easily skip from "Stripped" to "Coping Mechanisms" without noticing that anything's amiss, I'm not sure that's a good sign for "Aftermath" - but either way, I'm putting it in its rightful place. Sorry for the confusion!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven: Aftermath<strong>

It was over.

Alice had been reunited with her mother, who had barely managed to thank Keira before her tears started to mix with those of her daughter's. Keira, avoiding Greg's eyes the entire time, had stayed long enough to give a sobbing Alice her phone number.

It was over.

"Keira—" Greg began on the elevator ride down.

"Not now," Keira murmured wearily, wiping uselessly at the corners of her eyes. "I-I kind of just want to go home and cry, okay?"

She could have cringed at how high-pitched and wobbly her voice sounded, but Greg mercifully didn't comment. Instead, he nodded and put his hand on her shoulder. "We'll try to make the debriefing quick," he told her.

"Thanks," Keira whispered, turning her head so that he wouldn't see the tears spilling down her cheeks. It was taking all her strength not to fall apart completely, to keep at least some modicum of dignity. After everything her teammates had just heard, she didn't know how she was going to make it through the next couple of hours.

When they got to the ground floor, they were joined by Lou and Wordy (who tried to say something to Keira, but stopped short when he saw the look on her face). Keira, not in the mood for the usual post-call conversation, distanced herself from the others as they walked out into the parking lot. She was able to lose them in the crowd outside the building, and she made her way back to the vans alone—all the while fending off the civilians who were asking her what had happened.

"Keira—hey, Keira!"

"Spike, I _really_ don't want to talk about it," Keira said as Spike hurried to catch up with her.

He slowed down, unsure of how to reply. "Uh, okay," he finally said, looking so uncomfortable that she might have felt bad for him—if she hadn't felt like shit herself. "Is there… Is there anything I can do?" he asked, glancing uncertainly at her.

Keira shook her head, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay. "I'm fine," she whispered, not knowing whom she was reassuring.

Spike walked alongside her for a few more seconds, opening and closing his mouth in a vain effort to find something to say. Eventually, however, he fell back and disappeared from her line of vision. Keira continued on, vaguely aware that she was supposed to be helping load the team's equipment back into the vans.

She didn't see Will, something she was grateful for—because even after everything she had told Alice, even though she _knew_ it was true, she still couldn't get rid of the staggering guilt. The self-loathing. The shame. Feelings which had never truly gone away, which always became worse when she thought of Will. He had warned her; he had told her not to go out that night. And she, believing that she was invincible after everything she had gone through, had laughed at him.

One of the vans' trunks was open, and she tried to remember what had been in it. Guns, maybe? Harnesses?

"_You've got the fucking ugliest tits ever."_

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the memories, but she was helpless against the onslaught.

"_You look like one of those fucking Jew corpses from the Holocaust. Wouldn't bother if you weren't so drunk. Bet you're a huge slut, aren't you?"_

"Stop," she begged herself, her lips moving soundlessly.

_Her bed dipped under his weight as he crawled on top of the blankets. "You're not going to tell Mommy about this, are you?" he whispered, cupping a still-developing breast._

A strangled cry escaped her. Hunched over the back of the van, her body quivering uncontrollably, all Keira could do was try to quiet her sobs. It wasn't fair—she didn't want Alice, or anyone, to have to live through this nightmare. No matter what she did, no matter how many times she told herself that she had recovered, there were always relapses. Times like now when the memories and the hurt came bearing down upon her, and the best resistance she could offer was curling up in a ball and waiting for it to go away.

"I have some Kleenex," said a soft voice to her right.

Keira winced, hoping Will would leave if she didn't respond. As the seconds lengthened, however, and she didn't hear any footsteps, she apprehensively raised her head. The first thing she saw was a small packet of tissues, extended by a gloved hand.

"Thanks," she mumbled, reluctantly accepting the gift. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the Kleenex was desperately needed.

Will sat down on the floor of the van's trunk as Keira began the lengthy process of drying her eyes, hindered by the fact that she was still crying. "Keira—"

"Please, don't," she choked out. All the progress she had made with the tissues was erased in an instant as the tears began flowing again, forming a watery curtain through which she could barely see Will.

Will didn't press her for information. "Do you want a hug?" he asked instead, watching as she gave up on the Kleenex altogether and let her arms fall limply to her sides.

Out of sheer humiliation, Keira thought of saying no; but, if she were honest with herself, a hug from Will sounded a lot better than having a nervous breakdown in the trunk of an SUV. "Yeah," she muttered, trying to wipe her eyes. The only thing she succeeded in doing was smearing the tears across her face, creating a network of stiff, salty trails on her cheeks.

Will got to his feet and, without a word, slowly drew her into his arms. "You were amazing out there," he whispered, holding her as if he would never let go.

Keira began to cry in earnest, hating herself for the mistake she had made over a decade ago. "I-I'm so sorry," she gasped, her tears leaking onto his shirt. "I-I sh-should have…"

"Don't," Will murmured, embracing her even tighter. "Don't you dare apologize, Keira. You didn't do anything wrong."

It was so much easier to tell Alice—even, yes, to believe it in the moment—than it was to accept it for herself. "I-I couldn't t-tell you," she said, practically incoherent through her tears. "I-I was s-so embarrassed…"

"It's okay," he replied, his voice muffled by her hair. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

And, with Will, she didn't. Instead, she let him hold her as she sobbed and sobbed. Even when his shirt was soaked, even when her knees buckled and he was practically carrying her entire weight, he kept her in his arms and waited patiently for her to let it all out.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay."

* * *

><p>When Greg, Wordy, and Lou met up with the rest of Team One in the parking lot—Keira nowhere in sight, though Greg had a feeling that she had retreated behind one of the vans—it was a subdued congregation that awaited them.<p>

"I didn't see that one coming," Sam muttered finally, breaking the silence.

Lou exhaled slowly. "You can say that again," he replied, exchanging a glance with Spike.

Spike didn't say a word: his face was white, and all the protective gear he was wearing couldn't hide the fact that he was trembling. Greg knew that he and Keira were friends, that Spike was one of the few team members who had forced his way in through her defenses—but it was clear that he had never gotten to the stronghold of secrets she had guarded so closely all this time. None of them had.

"It explains some things, though, doesn't it?" Wordy asked, his forehead lined with concern. "I mean, that's got to be the reason why she doesn't drink?"

There was a quiet murmur of agreement. "And why she hates it when guys hit on her at the bar," Lou added, an uncomfortable look on his face suggesting that he was remembering all the times various team members, himself included, had teased her about it.

Just then, Ed appeared at Greg's side and discreetly nudged him in the arm. When Greg glanced questioningly at him, the team leader tilted his head in the direction of the vans.

Greg followed Ed's gaze through a small gap between the vehicles and saw two SRU officers locked in a tight embrace, oblivious to the rest of the world.

"You're going to have to do something about that, boss," Ed said quietly, watching as Keira sobbed in Will's arms.

"I know, Eddie," Greg replied, the knot in his chest tightening. "But not today."

It was only a matter of time before the two of them gave into the chemistry that obviously still lingered between them—especially now that Will knew the real reason why Keira had broken off their relationship. Team One couldn't afford another Sam and Jules; something had to be done, and Greg knew it wouldn't be as simple as sitting them down in the briefing room and asking them to put their feelings aside. Even if they were able to keep things strictly professional, their mutual attraction would only be buried, not extinguished. It would inevitably flare up again, possibly with devastating consequences for the entire team.

Greg sighed, turning away from Keira and Will to give them some privacy. He was going to have to deal with them eventually, but—as he had told Ed—today was not that day. What Keira needed right now was the team's unwavering support, not an interrogation from her boss.

"The worst part is, she doesn't even know the name of the guy who raped her."

Wordy's appalled voice broke in through the sergeant's musings, bringing him back to the crowded parking lot.

"Lucky for him," Spike spat, his face still deathly pale, "or I'd put Babycakes on kill mode and sic her on his ass."

"What kind of a scumbag do you have to be to do something like that?" Wordy asked in an uncharacteristically rough tone. Greg knew the younger man was thinking not just of Keira, but of his three daughters who would one day grow up and attend parties of their own. "Drugging someone and then taking advantage of them when they can't fight back?"

"Probably a frat boy who's used to getting everything he's ever wanted," Sam replied, his lip curled in disgust. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"I wonder if the guy even knew her name," Lou muttered darkly.

"Boss, what are we going to do when we debrief?" Spike questioned, looking hesitantly at Greg. "Do we talk about what Keira said, or…?"

"We're going to keep the debriefing short," Greg answered, locking eyes with each member of the team. "Keira's been through a lot today, and I'm not going to ask her to relive her assault again. The most important thing we can do right now is support her, and let her know that we're there for her if she wants to talk. But, knowing Keira, I don't think she's going to be in a confiding mood. So we're just going to get it over with, go home, and recoup, all right?"

The others nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p>When Keira was done crying—or rather, when she took pity on Will's shirt and, ashamed, decided that she needed to get her act together—she pulled away from him and wiped her eyes. "Th-Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, staring at the ground.<p>

"Keira?" he inquired tentatively. Keira flinched, already dreading the question. She could tell, just from the tone of his voice, that he knew he was treading dangerous waters and was attempting to proceed carefully.

"What?" she asked, bracing herself for the worst.

Will shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "What you told Alice about… about your mom," he began, frowning. "How she didn't care about you…"

"Will—"

"Look, I know that you didn't have the best relationship with her," Will said, "but don't you think you're being a little harsh on her? I could always tell that she cared a lot about you, back when we were growing up."

"Will, you don't know the first thing about my mother," Keira replied stiffly, folding her arms across her chest. "She's not the person you think she is."

"What do you mean?" Will asked, bewildered; but Keira cut him off, a surge of irritation making her voice sharper than usual.

"Look, I don't want to talk about her, all right? Can't you just leave it alone?"

Will immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Okay," he said softly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed."

Keira took a deep breath and exhaled, grimacing at how stiff her cheeks were from all the tears. "I should…" She trailed off, her brain too wired to remember what her post-mission duties were.

"It's okay, I'll leave," Will said quickly, already backing off. "I, uh…" He paused, sighed, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Keira."

"You don't have to—" Keira started to protest, but it was too late: he was retreating, afraid of making another mistake. She watched him go with a sinking heart, wishing she'd been able to get the right words out. All she had wanted was for him to stop asking questions and just hold her again… instead she had fucked up, as usual, and pushed him away when she needed him the most.

And now, without him there, the memories resurfaced and dragged her back down with them.


	28. Coping Mechanisms

**A/N: **If you're looking for the June 22nd update to this story, please go to Chapter 27 ("Aftermath"). I mistakenly posted last week's update, "Coping Mechanisms," in place of the real Chapter 27. "Coping Mechanisms" is now Chapter 28, as it should be.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Eight: Coping Mechanisms<strong>

Keira's memories of the rest of that afternoon could be boiled down to this: the pain in her hands after the briefing, from clenching her fists so tightly that her nails drew blood; the spot she'd stared at over Spike's shoulder in the hallway, and Will's shoulder in the parking lot, as she whispered that she needed to be alone tonight; and the unsettling feeling that someone else was driving her car, that someone else was guiding the vehicle through traffic and making all the right turns toward home.

She was surprised to find herself in Jason's driveway, the engine off and her ragged breathing the only sound in the car—she had no idea how she'd gotten there. As if in a dream she stepped out onto the pavement, her feet moving up the walkway of their own volition. She didn't know if she'd locked the car door, and she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Auntie K!" she heard Brian screech as she walked into the house. "Guess what!"

Keira's throat constricted as her nephew came running into the living room, his footsteps muted by the full-length Buzz Lightyear pajamas he was wearing in spite of the fact that it was nowhere close to his bedtime. "What?" she asked obligingly, kneeling down to envelop him in a tight hug.

Brian's shrill voice reverberated against her neck. "I built a Lego house!" he reported. "And it's a really big house, so you and Mommy and Daddy and a puppy and the Power Rangers can all fit inside!"

That was all it took for the tears to come spilling down her cheeks. "Yeah?" she managed, glad that Brian couldn't see her expression. "That's wonderful, honey. That's great…"

"Buddy, why don't you go finish the garage so you can show your aunt later?"

Keira hadn't heard her brother's appearance, but when she glanced up he was only a few feet away—with his concerned gaze boring into her own. As Brian slipped out of her arms, she stood up and hastily wiped her eyes. "Go on," she urged her nephew, whose growing frown was a startling echo of his father's. "I want to see the house when it's done."

Brian looked like he wanted to ask why his aunt was crying, but at an encouraging nod from Jason he reluctantly padded away. Keira watched him leave, her eyes steadily filling with tears until he disappeared in a glittering haze.

"Hey." Jason was closer now, his hand reaching out to cover her shoulder. She started trembling, unable to stop, her thoughts so choked with memories that she could barely see her brother. Instead there was only _him_, pressing her down and swallowing her whole… her body being stretched and torn while silent screams built up inside of her, piling one on top of each other until she was suffocating under their weight… all the times she had wanted to tell Will, but couldn't, and now it was too late and he knew and maybe he wouldn't ever look at her the same way again…

"Did someone die?" Jason asked, his voice quiet as he gently drew her into his arms. Keira inhaled his familiar scent, trying to draw some comfort from it, but Alice's face was hovering in front of her mind and all she could picture was the roof of that apartment building. How small and vulnerable Alice had looked, curling in on herself for protection.

She tightened her hold on Jason, but he didn't say a word of protest even when she squeezed through to his ribs. "Will found out why I left him," she sobbed into his shirt. "The entire team found out why I left him." The words were so muffled that she herself could barely hear them; but Jason did, and he made a low murmur of sympathy.

"How did it happen?"

Keira frantically shook her head. Jason understood, and didn't say anything else; instead, he held her closer as she wept for both Alice and herself—and for the fact that neither of them would be all right for a long, long time.

* * *

><p>When Will's phone rang later that night, the last person he was expecting to be on the other end of the line was Gregory Parker.<p>

"Boss?" he asked, frowning into the shallow depths of the shot he had just ordered.

"Hey, Will," Parker said—at least, that was what Will assumed he had said, because there was a full crowd at the bar and it wasn't exactly doing wonders for his reception. "I was just calling to see how you're holding up."

Will felt a wildly inappropriate urge to laugh, so he knocked back the shot instead. "Fine," he muttered when he was done. _Yeah, I'm doing real great, I just found out that Keira was raped and there's nothing I can do about it. Thanks for checking in, Boss._

"Any chance you're at a bar right now?" Parker inquired mildly.

Will thought about lying, but the background noise had already given him away. "Yeah. Needed a drink."

"You at the Goose?"

"Yeah."

"Mind if I join you?"

Will glared at his phone. "Yeah, sure," he finally replied, because he was going to have to have this conversation with Parker sooner or later—and at least now he had alcohol to help him through it.

Parker arrived approximately one shot and half a mug of beer later. Will mumbled something that might have passed as an acknowledgement when the older man lowered himself onto the neighboring stool.

"How many drinks is that?" Parker asked, gesturing towards the beer.

"I'm not really keeping track."

"It's not your fault, you know."

"It isn't?" Will downed the last of his beer. "Do you have any idea what Keira's like when she's drunk?"

Parker shook his head.

"She's a completely different person. It's like… like the rest of the room fades away and she's the only person worth looking at, because no one else is having as much fun as she is. No one else is dancing more, or laughing more, or…" _Or more beautiful,_ he almost finished, catching himself just in time. "But she doesn't stop drinking, and sooner or later she gets wasted enough to start hooking up with guys she's just met. And they don't give a shit about whether or not she's too drunk to consent."

He remembered all the times he'd searched for Keira in the crowd, only to see some guy half leading, half carrying her out of the room. He remembered the way his heart would start pounding, worse than any nerves he'd gotten before a hockey game; and how his legs felt like lead whenever he had to push through a writhing mass of drunken bodies, all the while praying that he wouldn't be too late. Then there were the times she'd simply disappeared, and he had to roam through the dimly-lit hallways of one of their classmates' houses, opening doors and apologizing whenever he disturbed the wrong couple. Sometimes, when he found her, she'd roll her eyes and tell him that she was _fine_, and could he please shut the door on his way out (with the guy beneath her glaring at Will, like who the hell did he think he was, which of course made Will feel like an idiot). But other times Keira had simply blinked at him, like she had no idea what either of them were doing there—and that was when he had to march in and pry her away, usually having to deal with the other guy being an asshole in the process.

Now, thinking of how right he'd been to worry, and how wrong he'd been to let her fend for herself that night, he felt sick.

"You couldn't have known that this was going to happen," Parker reminded him.

"I knewshe was planning on drinking. And I knew her friends were, too. But all I did was tell her to 'be careful' and 'try not to drink as much,' when I knew she wasn't going to listen. My girlfriend got _raped_ because I wanted a few extra hours to study for an exam," Will spat. Forget the alcohol—right now, he felt drunk on self-loathing.

"You can't protect someone all the time, Will. You're human. The only person at fault here is Keira's rapist."

Will shook his head. "I never should have let her go."

"That wasn't your choice to make," Parker replied. "It was Keira's. And based on what you've told me, it doesn't sound like there was anything you could have done to change her mind."

"_Baby, I'll be _fine_," Keira said, her arms slipping around him as she bent down to kiss his neck. Will couldn't see her face, but he could tell that she was smiling. "The only thing you need to worry about is acing this final. I'll stop by when I get back, all right?"_

_He craned his neck up to look at her. "Think you'll be able to remember where I live at that point?" he asked, smirking._

_Keira rolled her eyes, but they both knew he wasn't that far off the mark. "Okay, fine." She reached over his shoulder and flicked the pencil he was holding, making a graphite dot appear on his physics notes. "You can wake me up tomorrow afternoon instead, how's that?"_

"_More realistic."_

"_Shut up. I love you."_

"_Love you, too." He had to twist his neck to kiss her, but the discomfort was worth it. She still tasted like the chocolate cake they'd shared at dinner. "Don't forget to brush your teeth," he teased her, licking his lips._

"_Yes, Mom." She kissed the top of his head, and for a moment he felt inexplicably happy—like all the pieces of his life had just fallen together with a click, and Keira was the main component._

_After she was gone, he smiled to himself and wondered how he'd gotten so lucky._

Now, Will said, "I spent ten years hating her."

And Parker asked, "Did you ever really hate her?"

"No," Will admitted after a pause. "But I used to imagine running into her somewhere and completely unloading on her, you know? I was so angry at her—and it never even occurred to me that _it wasn't about me_."

"You were hurt and confused," Parker pointed out. "Your girlfriend had left you without an explanation… I don't think anyone would have, or could have, guessed why. Even you."

"No, I should have known that something was wrong," Will retorted, furious at himself. "Keira's always had her secrets, but she never ran away like that. I should have realized that something had happened… I should have tried harder to find her." It was enough to make him sick, thinking of how alone she'd been; all the guys she said she'd slept with, hardly better than her rapist. He wondered how many nightmares she'd had, how many times she'd had to fall back asleep on her own instead of in his arms.

"Sounds like you didn't have much to go on," Parker said mildly.

"Doesn't matter." Will's voice was rough; he barely even recognized it. "I should have tracked her down."

Almost worse than the knowledge that he'd abandoned her, just when she needed him the most, was the knowledge that she hadn't ended their relationship because she wanted to. She'd been driven away by something else entirely—which meant that she hadn't been lying six months ago when she said that she had always loved him. Which meant that the only reason she'd pushed him away was because she didn't want him to find out about her past.

And Spike… Maybe she had been telling the truth about him, too.

"You should take tomorrow off," Parker was saying as Will sunk deeper and deeper into his thoughts. "You're going to have one hell of a hangover."

"No." Will set his glass down, wincing at the noise. "I'll be fine."

Greg looked like he was about to say something, but then his eyes narrowed at a point near Will's hand. "You want to get that?"

It took a moment for Will to figure out what he was talking about. By the time he realized that Parker was referring to his phone, Cassie's name was flashing on the screen. Will stared at it, blinking; then he reached over and turned off the phone.

"It's not important," he replied.

From the way the silence stretched between them, Will knew that Parker had seen who was calling. "Come on," the sergeant said after a moment. "I'll drive you home."


	29. Rape Is a Four Letter Word

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Rape Is a Four-Letter Word**

"I thought I told you to take the day off."

Keira hadn't made it five feet out of the locker room before she was accosted by Greg, his face a study in concern. "I didn't feel like it," she said, quickening her steps so that they'd reach the gym faster.

"Keira." The boss's voice stopped her in her tracks. "You went through a lot yesterday," he reminded her, as if she'd forgotten. "You don't have to prove a point by being here."

"I'm not proving a point," Keira retorted. She wasn't interested in his fucking pity party. "I'm just doing my job."

That, and she'd spent too many days hiding under the covers with her "depressing music" playlist on repeat. She'd done more than enough of that before joining the SRU, and she wasn't planning on starting again.

"Part of this job is knowing your limits," Greg pointed out.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Are you sending me home?"

"No." She had a feeling that it was against his better judgment. "But you'll be in the command truck today if we get a call."

"Fine." Lou would probably thank her. "Mind if I start my workout?"

Parker hesitated. "Keira, if you want to talk—"

"I don't."

"Not now. But later."

_Great,_ she thought. _Just what I need._ Greg was probably going to devote an entire section of her next psychological evaluation to the fact that she'd been raped. And while she understood his reasoning, it made her glad that he didn't know the whole story.

Her mood only worsened when she finally got to the gym. As if she were carrying a big neon sign that said "I'm a rape victim! Treat me differently!", her teammates all spent several obvious seconds staring at her—then just as obviously making their greetings pointedly casual. The sole exception was Will, who looked almost as bad as she felt. She wondered if he'd gotten any sleep last night.

For a few minutes, no one spoke. Keira gravitated towards the stationary bike, hearing the soft _clink_, _clink_ of the other machines and feeling the weight of everyone's gazes upon her. Wordy walked by, for no apparent reason other than to say "hey" in a too bright voice, and she had to repress the urge to scream. This wasn't what she had come to work for. This wasn't what she needed right now.

Before she had the chance to open her mouth and say something she'd probably regret—it was a toss-up between _it'd be nice if you could all stop staring at me_ or _I was raped ten years ago, get over it already_—Spike cleared his throat and resumed his conversation with Lou. Gradually, the tension in the room subsided. Sam went back to his punching bag, Ed and Wordy started talking about their kids, and Donna arrived a moment later to good-natured jibes about her tardiness.

Keira had been biking for about half an hour when Will entered her field of vision, his eyes wide in the way that meant he was struggling to stay awake. "Are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

He winced. "Just tired," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "How about you? How are you holding up?"

"You mean, aside from the fact that everyone's staring at me like I'm some kind of freak?"

"They just weren't expecting you to show up today. They probably think…" Will trailed off, but at a sharp look from her he continued. "They probably think you should be home. Like you're in denial or something." Even as he spoke, it was a silent question underlying his own words.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

Luckily, he got the hint. "I have something for you," he said, changing the subject.

"What?" Despite the grin on his face, and the fact that he'd gotten her some pretty awesome gifts in the past (the best of which had been Madonna tickets for her sixteenth birthday), Keira couldn't help but eye him warily. The timing, after all, was suspicious—there was no way it didn't have something to do with yesterday.

"You'll see. At the end of the shift."

She made a face. "I have to wait?"

"I know, I know. Patience isn't one of your virtues." Will rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then winced.

"Uh… Will?" Keira asked, watching him blink away the glare of the fluorescent lights.

"Yeah?"

"Are you hungover? On a Tuesday morning?"

Will didn't respond, but his silence was answer enough. Keira felt a slight twinge of discomfort as she realized that he must have gotten drunk last night because of her, because of what he'd learned about her past. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign, or if she even wanted to know. "I have some Advil in my locker," she said awkwardly.

"I'll be fine."

"There's no point in making yourself mis—"

"Don't worry about me," Will insisted. _I'm the one who should be worrying about you,_ he might as well have added.

"All right, Team One, time to run through some sparring drills," Parker announced just then, his voice loud enough that Will flinched. Keira stifled a smirk, her own troubles temporarily forgotten. She remembered exactly how Will felt, having suffered through some pretty atrocious mornings over the years, and she didn't envy him any of the symptoms.

Everyone gathered around Parker, who explained that they were going to be practicing ground maneuvers. Keira's mood improved ever so slightly: ground maneuvers were her favorite. She loved being able to escape from dozens of complicated holds, loved the rush of power that accompanied each triumph over her partner. Although she could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually used this training on the job, just knowing that she _could_ throw off an assailant was enough for her.

"Today, we're going to be doing choke holds," Parker said, much to Keira's delight. "Spike, if you don't mind…"

Spike was already hurrying forward. "Sure thing, Boss," he said, grinning. One of the lighter guys on the team, and also the most easy-going, he had become the de facto guinea pig for sparring demonstrations. No matter how many times he got thrown to the ground or placed in an uncomfortable hold, he always bounced back up again with a smile on his face.

Once Parker and Spike had demonstrated the proper techniques, Parker had them split into pairs. Keira instinctively looked to Wordy, who also specialized in martial arts. She usually liked to practice with him for the more complicated maneuvers, since he always had great tips on the exercises. Plus… as much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew she would feel more comfortable working with him today than with anyone else on the team. (Even, or maybe especially, Spike and Will.)

Wordy glanced over, and their eyes met; then, to her surprise, he started drifting toward Will.

Ignoring the sinking sensation in her gut, Keira lifted her voice. "Wordy."

Wordy turned back to her, with a look of what she could only describe as pure reluctance on his face. "Partners?" she asked, forcing herself to sound casual when her insides were throbbing with embarrassment and hurt. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out why Wordy didn't want to work with her.

"Yeah, sure," Wordy agreed, too quickly. He looked one last time at Will, who was pairing up with Donna, and sighed. "Uh… Who do you want to be first?"

Better to get the worst over quickly. "The person being choked," Keira decided, lying down. Everyone else was already getting started—the "subject" would get on top and straddle the "officer," then reach down and pretend to choke them. (Spike to Lou: "This is the most action you've gotten all month, buddy!")

Keira waited for Wordy to start "attacking" her, but once he knelt down beside her he made no move to initiate the chokehold.

"Are you sure—"

"Wordy, I'm _fine_," she ground out, clenching her fists. Her cheeks felt hot, a combination of both fury and humiliation that she could barely stand. If Wordy didn't start choking her in two seconds, she was going to—

Wordy slowly climbed on top of her, his discomfort showing in every movement. He gripped her throat, his touch so gentle that she could barely feel it, and carefully adjusted himself so that there was no weight on her hips.

Keira swallowed, forcing her anger back down her throat. She was not going to scream. She was not going to cry.

Instead, she pointed out, "I can't throw you off if you're leaving all this space in between us."

Wordy hesitated, but eventually their bodies made contact—if the lightest of pressure could be considered contact. His legs were quivering with the effort it was taking him to remain suspended above her. "Is this okay?" he asked.

She was not going to scream. She was not going to cry. "Are you _serious_?"

A dark flush spread across his cheeks. "I'm just—"

"Hey, Wordy, do you think you could give Will a hand over here?"

At the sound of Greg's voice, a look of relief washed over Wordy. Before Keira could so much as blink, he had leaped off of her and was hurrying to Will's side. "Donna, why don't you pair up with Keira…" she heard Parker saying.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Keira growled, loud enough to draw Spike and Lou's attention. She glared up at the ceiling, blinking away hot tears. Parker had just executed a classic "pair the women together so no one's uncomfortable" maneuver, with a side of "don't want the rape victim to have flashbacks" for good measure. Never mind the fact that more than ten fucking years had gone by since that night, which hadn't even been the worst one.

At this rate, she might as well have stayed home. Even being alone with her memories would have been better than the way her teammates were coddling her.

"So, I guess we're partners now."

Donna's face appeared above her, accompanied by a smile that Keira found particularly grating. "Yeah, I guess," she muttered.

At least Donna didn't seem to want to treat her like a glass ornament. The older woman was all business as she straddled Keira and wrapped her hands around her neck, squeezing just enough so that Keira could imagine herself in real danger. Grateful for this small mercy, Keira wasted no time before breaking the chokehold and throwing Donna off of her.

"Nice," Donna grunted as Keira pinned her to the mat and subdued her with a different hold.

Keira tried to suppress the irrational part of her that was annoyed by Donna's compliment. "Your turn," she said, gripping Donna's throat. For a brief moment, she imagined _really_ squeezing, _really_ making her choke; but then Donna broke the hold and flipped her over, and the vision shattered. Donna wasn't Wordy. Donna wasn't making her feel like she'd become a pariah. Donna hadn't done anything to her—and if Keira didn't get her act together, she was going to be taking an involuntary leave of absence.

After half an hour of varying chokeholds, Parker gave them a few minutes for a water break. Keira stayed where she was. She didn't feel thirsty, and the prospect of more awkward interactions with her teammates wasn't exactly appealing. Just thinking of the way Wordy had tried to avoid her was enough to make her blood boil. Worse, she didn't doubt for a second that the only difference between him and Donna was that Donna was doing a better job of hiding her pity.

_Breathe,_ she told herself. She didn't want to lose her temper and make a scene in front of her coworkers, which would only reflect badly on her.

She was breathing, breathing, breathing… until Wordy walked by, glanced at her, and quickly looked away again.

_Fuck it,_ Keira thought. Leaping to her feet, she caught up with Wordy and tapped his shoulder. "Hey," she said roughly, trying to keep her voice low so that the others wouldn't hear her. "What the hell was that?"

At least Wordy could meet her eyes this time, though his guilty expression gave it all away. "What was what?" he asked hesitantly.

Keira's temper flared. "You not being able to spar with me all of a sudden? Or even act normally?"

"I—"

"Just out of curiosity, how long am I going to have to wait before I'm something other than a rape victim to you?"

"That's not what—"

"Oh, don't try to deny it, that's _exactly_ what's going on—"

"Is there a problem here?"

Ed appeared in front of them, bringing the argument to a halt. He glanced back and forth between them, eyebrows raised, while he waited for a response.

Keira was the first to collect herself. "No," she replied coolly. "Just asking Wordy a question he can't seem to find the answer to."

She left before either of them could say anything, still fuming. How many coworker relationships had she sacrificed yesterday, all because she'd saved a young girl's life? She had opened herself up and dug into some of her most painful memories in order to keep Alice from going over the edge—but at what cost?

And they wondered why she didn't want to fucking talk about herself.

By the time Parker set them up for punching drills, Keira was ready for an excuse to hit something. She barely waited for Donna to hold up the pads before launching into the exercise, striking the pads as hard as she could and easily driving Donna back a few feet. Donna adjusted her stance and tried to hold her ground, which only made Keira more determined to push her back. She imagined herself punching Wordy, her anger fueled by all the recollections she had of him purposefully going easy on her during sparring sessions; then she pictured Greg and Ed's faces, one for each pad. (She didn't dare picture Donna, for fear that she would actually punch the woman.)

At one point, the pad slipped off of Donna's hand. Keira caught herself just in time and stepped back, giving her space to adjust—but she was irritated at the delay, and she started bouncing impatiently. _Hurry up,_ she thought, clenching her fists.

"You're doing well." Donna was slightly out of breath; evidently, Keira was giving her more of a workout than she'd anticipated. Her next words were less audible, but Keira thought she caught something along the lines of "let it all out."

"Excuse me?" Keira asked, stopping dead in her tracks.

Donna finished strapping the Velcro and glanced up. "I said, 'better to let it all out.'"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Keira hadn't realized how loud she was speaking until the room around her fell silent. One by one, her teammates stopped what they were doing and stared at her and Donna.

Donna was blinking in confusion. "I don't know what you—"

"What, you think I need to 'let it all out' because I'm having flashbacks or something? Because I feel powerless after being raped ten fucking years ago and need to 'reclaim' it or some stupid bullshit like that?"

Donna's eyes darted around the room, taking in the spectators, before she said, "You went through a lot yesterday, I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help!" Keira's voice rose with each syllable. "I'm _over_ being raped, it happened a decade ago and I've fucking moved on. You think I'm pissed because of that? I'm _pissed_ because ever since I walked in here today, it's like you people can't even look at me anymore. Wordy doesn't want to spar with me, I guess because I'm damaged goods or something—"

"Hey, that's not fair," Wordy interjected angrily.

"Oh, please, you couldn't get away from me fast enough when the boss oh-so-conveniently asked you to help Will. Isn't that right, Boss?" Keira asked, turning around to look at Greg. "I guess it's just too awkward to have me paired with one of the guys anymore, me being a rape victim and all. Don't want to make anyone uncomfortable." She spat out the last word.

"That's not what this is about," Parker said calmly. He was already assuming a negotiator pose, and Keira wanted nothing more than to wipe that reassuring expression right off of his face.

"Could have fooled me." Keira started taking off her protective gloves; the sound of Velcro ripping apart echoed throughout the quiet gym. "I'm going to get a drink," she announced, tossing the gloves on the ground. She didn't dare look in Will's direction. "And when I come back, I'd like to be treated the way I was before you all decided that I'm just a victim."

She shouldered past Donna and stalked out of the gym. Her hands were shaking so much that she had to clasp them together, slowly but steadily crushing her fingers. She headed straight for the locker rooms, ignoring the members of Team Three who were starting to filter in from an outdoor exercise.

When she was finally alone in the women's locker room, she sat down on a bench and buried her face in her hands. She shouldn't have lost her temper like that; the outburst had likely confirmed Parker's belief that she would have been better off home. But why did Wordy and Donna have to be so fucking patronizing?How hard was it to pretend that everything was normal, that it was just another day of work?

"_Just let it all out_," she muttered mockingly to herself, looking around for something she could throw or kick without causing too much damage. The nearest object at hand was an empty water bottle, so she picked it up and hurled it at the lockers. The pathetic noise it made as it bounced off a locker and fell to the floor wasn't satisfying in the least.

"Punching bags usually work better."

Keira stiffened, then turned around to face Ed. She was relieved to see that he wasn't laughing at her.

"You have an appointment with Dr. Luria on Thursday," he announced.

Several expletives came to mind, but Keira did her best to remain civil. "I don't need a psychiatrist," she informed him. Dr. Luria was nice and all, but she'd only spoken to the woman a handful of times. SRU-mandated girl talk was definitely not her thing.

"It's not an option."

_Well, fuck you, too,_ she thought.

"I also want you to take tomorrow off."

"Maybe you should give that day off to Wordy," Keira couldn't resist retorting. "Sounds like he needs some time to adjust to working with a rape victim."

"No one here thinks you're a victim."

Keira snorted. "That's not what I got out of today's practice."

"They're concerned about you. There's a difference."

Keira didn't respond, hoping he would fulfill his team leader obligations as quickly as possible and then leave her alone. If she was going to have this talk with anyone without getting pissed off, it would be Will. Ed wouldn't even make the top ten.

"Look, I get that you're angry. That's what Dr. Luria's for. So, after today's shift, I want you to go home and spend tomorrow unwinding. Whatever you need to do—just go easy on the alcohol."

"I don't drink," Keira replied bitingly.

"Go easy on the alcohol," Ed repeated. "Then, on Thursday, you see Dr. Luria. You're back on duty once she clears you."

"Once she—what the hell?" Keira demanded, tensing. "Since when do I need to be cleared for duty? Is this some kind of joke?"

Ed ignored the last question. "No one blames you for being angry, but the issue here is your judgment."

"My judgment was just fine yesterday."

"You helped save her life, and that's great." Ed's eyes were fixed on hers. "But you also got caught up in your story, and you risked losing perspective."

Keira had an uncomfortable feeling that he was referring to the comment she'd unintentionally made about her mother.

"I'm going to talk to Wordy," Ed promised her, "but you're talking to Dr. Luria."

"Great." Given the choice, Keira would have preferred another round of sparring drills with Wordy. Or tagging along on one of Will and Cassie's dates.

Ed watched her for a moment, during which she studiously avoided his gaze. "You did a good job yesterday."

"Thanks."

Another pause; finally, Ed nodded. "See you back out there."

Once he was gone, Keira took a deep breath and then, with one violent motion, swept everything off of the bench.


	30. Tex Mex and 80's Music

**A/N:** There's a bit of profanity here (you'll know it when you see it) that I'm not sure is allowed in T stories - the guidelines are a bit fuzzy! If you think it crosses the line, let me know.

Also, I know "suggested listening" recommendations never work out as well as the author thinks they will, so I'm not going to tell you to listen to any of the songs mentioned here, lol. But if you're in the mood for some brief 80s nostalgia...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty: Tex-Mex and 80s Music<strong>

At the end of the shift, Keira purposefully delayed heading into the locker room so that she could avoid talking to Donna. When at last she ventured inside, one of the showers was running; relieved, she quickly gathered her things and left. She emerged into the hallway just as Spike was leaving the men's locker room, his hair still glistening from the shower.

"Hey," he said when he saw her. He didn't look somewhere else, or try to avoid a conversation; instead, he moved closer and asked, "Hanging in there?"

"Mostly."

They were standing two feet apart, hovering awkwardly in place, each trying to gauge where they stood with the other.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I've missed you," Keira said suddenly.

For a long moment, Spike's expression was inscrutable. Just when Keira was beginning to regret having spoken, he exhaled and replied, "Me, too."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "for—for what I said—"

Spike shook his head. "It's okay."

"No, I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," he repeated. "Really."

A warm swell of relief flooded through her, the first time she'd felt normal all day. She would have hugged Spike, but for the fact that someone could easily walk by and see them; instead, she contented herself with a small grin.

"That nightmare," Spike began, looking closely at her, "was it about—about that party?"

She nodded, because it was an easy enough lie.

"I wouldn't have thought any less of you if you'd told me," Spike vowed quietly. "You don't have to deal with it all by yourself."

The lump in her throat was making it difficult to speak. "I didn't want to deal with it at all."

"Keira—"

The sound of footsteps brought their conversation to a halt and forced Keira to wipe frantically at her eyes—but it turned out to be just Donna leaving the locker room. The older woman stopped when she saw them, her brow furrowing. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, we're just talking." Spike sounded borderline convincing.

"I see." Donna glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Mind if I borrow Keira for a moment?"

_Yes, actually, I do,_ Keira thought, sighing as Spike nodded and left. She had been on the verge of asking Spike if he had any plans for the night—it didn't even matter if they had sex or not, she just wanted some company. Now, thanks to Donna, the moment was lost.

"You all right?"

Jesus Christ, how many times was she going to have to have this conversation today? Trying not to glare at Donna, Keira muttered, "Yeah, thanks."

"Wordy and I weren't trying to—"

"Yeah, I know," Keira cut her off. Part of her cringed at her rudeness; the other part didn't care anymore.

"Listen…" Donna hesitated for a second, then forged on without the slightest sign of encouragement from Keira. "I'm going to grab a bite to eat at this Tex-Mex place around the corner. Why don't you come with me."

"I'm good, thanks," Keira replied stiffly. She couldn't think of anything she was less in the mood for than team bonding—and if she'd had to choose between Donna and Dr. Luria, it would have been a tough call.

Donna's expression was suddenly severe, her grey eyes pinning Keira in place. "I know we haven't gotten off on the right foot," she began, "and I know I'm not your favorite person right now. But we're stuck with each other until Jules comes back, so you might as well give me a chance."

Although Keira was taken aback, she couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for Donna. At least she was being upfront about what she wanted, which was more than Keira could say about a lot of people.

"I don't want to talk about yesterday," she replied guardedly.

"We don't have to."

Keira hesitated. Even with Donna's apparently sincere promise, the idea of having a one-on-one outing with her—or with anyone on the team, really, except for Will and Spike—was nerve-wracking. What would she and Donna even talk about? If yesterday was off-limits, inevitably Donna would settle on something "safe"; only "safe" for a normal person was usually where the ice was thinnest for Keira.

Luckily for her, Will emerged from the men's locker room at that moment, his hair dark and plastered over his forehead in an endearingly messy fashion. "Hey, guys," he greeted them, smiling for an extra heartbeat at Keira. "What are you up to?"

Donna glanced at Keira, then replied, "Just talking about grabbing something to eat. Want to join us?"

When Will said yes, Keira was so relieved that she nearly hugged him on the spot.

* * *

><p>The restaurant was well-lit, crowded, and noisy—the perfect combination of all things casual. With Will beside her in the booth, happily digging into a plate of nachos that the three of them were sharing, Keira felt more relaxed than she had ever been on a team outing. (It helped that half of the team was missing.) The day's tension was slowly melting away, a little more of it disappearing each time Will caught her eye.<p>

She didn't mind, either, how small the booth was, wedged so tightly into a corner that her knees and elbows kept bumping against Will's. It felt just like they were in high school again, each an extension of the other, Will picking up where she faltered and carrying on like nothing had happened. He was her shield against Donna, deflecting any questions that he knew would make her uncomfortable and yet somehow always maintaining the flow of the conversation. Were it not for the fact that Donna would pick up on each and every one of them, Keira would have shot him several grateful looks throughout the evening.

"Donna, isn't your niece going to be in high school soon?" Will asked, sliding the nacho plate over to Keira.

"This fall," Donna confirmed. "She's trying out for the lacrosse team."

"Keira used to play lacrosse," Will said, just as Keira bit into a deliciously messy heap of chips, salsa, and guacamole.

"You did?" Donna asked, looking at her in surprise—which quickly gave way to laughter as Keira attempted to chew and swallow at rapid speed.

"Screw you," Keira muttered when Will smirked and handed her some napkins.

"You're welcome," he replied cheerfully. While Keira cleaned herself, he told Donna, "Yeah, she was a three-season athlete in high school. Field hockey, track, and lacrosse. She was insanely fast."

"Still am," Keira retorted when she could finally talk again. Elbowing him, she added, "You were eating my dust on our last evaluations."

"I had to let you win something after I smoked you at the shooting range."

"Only because you have, what, twenty years of experience on me?"

"Are you two always like this?" Donna asked, lifting her eyebrows.

"Not always," they said at the same time. Keira had to quickly hide her smirk behind a long drink of water.

While she was swallowing, she noticed that Will's phone, which was lying next to hers on the bench, had lit up with a new message. Will glanced at it for a second, long enough for both of them to see Cassie's name on the screen, and then turned it off. She shot him a questioning look, but he gave a small shrug that meant he didn't want to talk about it.

Donna asked Will, "So, were you also a three-season athlete?"

Will shook his head. "Just hockey. Which was pretty much a three-season sport in and of itself, because our coach made us practice in the off-season."

"At, like, six in the morning, too," Keira remembered, making a face.

"Hey, it was worth it," Will defended his old coach. "He kicked our asses, but we won championships three years in a row. I think my dad still has that video of you tackling me on the ice senior year," he added to Keira.

"We were basically each other's best cheerleaders," Keira explained to Donna. "I got dibs on his hockey jersey every week, except for when he had a girlfriend."

"What about when you had a boyfriend?" Donna inquired.

"They got over it." No way in hell was she letting any guy dictate what she wore, not after Jim.

Will nudged her. "Tell her about Matt."

"Who?" Keira asked, frowning.

"Matt Wilson."

"Oh. That asshole? Ex-boyfriend," she clarified for Donna. "He gave me crap for wearing Will's jersey on game day, so I dumped him."

"But it wasn't just any break-up," Will said with relish. "He came up to her during lunch and picked a fight with her in front of all our friends—"

"—saying I was 'disrespecting' him and other sexist crap like that," Keira chimed in, warming up to the story. "He told me I had to choose between him and Will, obviously thinking I was going to choose him because he was the quarterback of our football team, as if I gave a shit about that."

"And then she completely tore him a new one in the middle of the cafeteria," Will said triumphantly. "It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. She rounded the whole thing off by giving a detailed explanation of why he sucked in bed."

"Well, he did," Keira muttered as Donna started laughing. "I swear to God I showed him what a clit was at least five times, and he just had no idea what to do with it."

Will started choking on his drink; Donna was practically in tears. "Props for calling him out on it," Donna finally said, wiping her eyes. She tipped her beer bottle in Keira's direction, then took a long drink. "That was good," she remarked after she swallowed.

Keira bit back a smile, trying not to reveal the part of her that was gratified by the measure of respect she had just earned from the older officer. Will noticed anyway; he met her eyes and grinned, gently tapping his knee against hers.

Donna said something else then, but Keira didn't hear it over the sudden roaring in her ears as every last nerve in her body boiled down to that single point of contact with Will.

* * *

><p>About an hour later, they paid the bill and left the restaurant. They said their goodbyes in the parking lot, Donna heading in one direction and Keira and Will in the other. "Thanks for coming along," Keira said as they walked to their cars, rubbing her hands together to stave off the cool night air. "I wouldn't have wanted to go alone."<p>

Will glanced at her. "Because of today?" he asked quietly.

"Mostly," Keira agreed. "That, and… I don't know, I just don't think I'd have been able to make conversation with her the entire time. She'd probably have asked all these questions and I really wasn't in the mood for that tonight. I think she picked up on that, and that's why she invited you."

"And not for my company?" Will inquired, pretending to be hurt.

Keira elbowed him. "That's not what I meant. But seriously, thank you."

"Anytime."

They arrived at her car and stopped, neither of them in much of a hurry to separate. There was a street light behind Will, shining through his hair and leaving the rest of his features in shadows. Before Keira could say anything, he stiffened and unzipped his jacket. "I almost forgot," he said, rooting through one of the inside pockets; Keira, distracted by the strip of skin taunting her from under the hem of his shirt, barely heard him. "I haven't given you your gift yet."

He pulled it out with a flourish, revealing a blank CD protected by a thin jewel case. "For the ride home."

Keira took it from him, ignoring the shiver that raced through her when their hands touched. "What's on it?"

The smirk on Will's face was as infuriating as it was adorable. "You'll have to listen to it and find out," he teased her. "But only half of the songs are Madonna. I know you occasionally listen to other people." There was a sarcastic emphasis on "occasionally."

Keira knew that Will had made this mix solely to cheer her up, but the gesture touched her in a way that it wouldn't have coming from just about anyone else. "You didn't have to do this," she murmured.

Will shrugged. "I wanted to."

"Weren't you hungover?" she asked, frowning at the writing on the CD. It was definitely more uneven than usual. "When'd you make this?"

"Yeah… I accidentally set my alarm to three o'clock this morning, and then I couldn't fall back asleep. I don't even want to know what I'm running on right now." A yawn punctuated Will's last words; his body didn't seem to know, either.

"You okay to drive home?" Keira asked warily.

"I'll be fine. It's not too far."

"Call me when you get back," Keira said, her tone making it clear that it wasn't a request.

Will promised he would. The two of them stood there for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other, neither wanting to be the first to leave.

"I should…" Keira began finally, not wanting Will to be completely exhausted on the drive home.

Will started. "Yeah, yeah. I should be going, too. See you tomorrow."

"Oh, no—" She hadn't told him, or Donna, about her conversation with Ed. "The boss doesn't want me in tomorrow. I'm supposed to take the day off."

"But whose ass am I going to kick at the shooting range?" Will demanded in mock outrage.

"More like your ass is getting a reprieve from our sparring sessions," Keira shot back, glad he wasn't making a big deal of it. Sometimes, being surrounded on a daily basis by coworkers who were trained to psychologically profile someone at the drop of a hat was a major hassle; she could have hugged Will for refraining. Instead, she held up the CD case. "Thanks for this. And tonight."

"Let me know what you think of it," Will said, walking backward in the direction of his car. "And remember, I was kind of hungover when I did it, so I can't really—"

"Look out!"

Will glanced over his shoulder just in time to see himself back into the front end of a Volvo. If his reflexes had been any slower, he would have fallen flat on his ass; instead, he did an awkward skip-slash-scramble that ended with him grabbing his calf and cursing. Fortunately, it was the kind of mild cursing that denoted a lack of real pain.

Keira laughed, because she was a terrible friend and because she loved hearing Will swear, and unlocked her car door. "Night, Will."

"Night," he managed, grimacing.

Once Keira was in her car, she impatiently opened the jewel case and popped the CD into her stereo. While it was loading, she backed out of her spot and headed for the parking lot exit. As she was turning out onto the road, a familiar guitar riff resounded throughout the car—the opening chords of Madonna's "Burning Up," also known as the song that had started Keira's obsession with her at the tender age of three. It had been a favorite of hers ever since. Most people who hung out with her on a semi-regular basis had memorized the lyrics simply by association.

Within seconds, her head was bobbing in time to the music. A smile appeared on her face, the only outward indicator of the memories starting to take hold: her and Will, still in booster seats, belting out the chorus in his mom's car; her and some of the girls from lacrosse, getting ready for junior prom and having a spontaneous dance party to this song; an amazing make-out session with one of the senior football players in his conservative parents' bedroom, using Madonna's first album as the soundtrack.

_Oh, what the hell,_ she thought. It was dark out, the roads were pretty empty, and Will's mix was just the thing she needed right now. Without another hesitation, Keira opened her mouth and began to sing. She didn't have any illusions about her talent: she totally sucked, in the kind of way that most people found hilarious for a song and then grating for anything longer than that. Will was one of the few who had been able to tolerate her—after all the time they'd spent in cars together, it was background noise for him.

And so she sang, even rolling down the windows after a moment and screaming the lyrics just for the fun of it (though not without double-checking to make sure there was no one in sight). She was laughing by the time she finished, really laughing, the way she hadn't done by herself in what felt like years.

It soon became apparent that Will's mix was a glorious homage to their eighties upbringing. There was a lot of Madonna, but there were also songs that she'd completely forgotten about—and then promptly remembered all the lyrics to, as if she'd just heard them yesterday.

Halfway home, she called Will. "What do you think?" he asked when he picked up. "Is that 'Heat of the Night'?"

In response, Keira adjusted the volume so the Bryan Adams song was clearly audible. "You're actually the best person ever," she told him.

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? Will, this is amazing. You need to get hungover more often."

Warm laughter filled her ear. "You know, I couldn't even listen to the songs before I put them on. I had to go off of memory."

"Well, you—oh my God!"

"What?"

"I love this song!"

"I can't hear it…"

Keira held the phone in front of the speakers, allowing Will to hear the opening notes of Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car." When the first verse started, she brought the phone back to her ear and said, "I'm going to have to hang up on you now."

"Why?" he asked, confused.

"Because I need to sing along and I don't want to get into a car accident."

"Okay, try to get home in one piece," Will joked.

"I'll do my best. Don't forget to call me when _you_ get home."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Shut up. I love you. Bye."

It wasn't until Keira hung up that she realized what she had just said.


	31. Brian Tags Along

**A/N:** I wrote this chapter before the Season 4 episode in which it's revealed that Team One starts its workout at five in the morning, which means that some of the details the first scene in this chapter don't work... Shh. ;)

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-One: Brian Tags Along<strong>

For once, Keira was not running late to work. Normally, she wasn't a morning person—she was more of the "hit the snooze button about five times too many" type, which usually resulted in her scrambling downstairs, knocking back a glass of orange juice, and barely managing to kiss Brian on the forehead before running out the door with a piece of toast in hand. Today, however, she had woken up at five and, for whatever reason, hadn't been able to fall back asleep. Now, she was leisurely enjoying bacon and eggs while reading the paper.

At least, she was trying to read the paper. Instead she found that she was reading the same paragraph over and over again, the words swimming before her without forming into anything coherent. Alice had called her yesterday to thank her for saving her life, and to tell her what had happened since then. Keira had spent the past month tracking the case through the local papers, so she knew that Justin Kemp had been arrested and would soon face trial—but she hadn't heard that Alice had gotten a full examination at the hospital, hoping to unearth more evidence that the prosecutor could use against him. Even though she had taken a shower after the assault, there were still incriminating bruises and minor tissue damage. With any luck, they would put Justin on the path to prison.

Keira sighed, lowering the paper. Regardless of the eventual verdict, Alice had a long and difficult road ahead of her. Keira knew what happened when a rape case was brought to trial: all too often, the community rallied behind the rapist and shunned the survivor. "She was dressed provocatively"; "She was drunk"; "She was asking for it." Or, her personal favorite, "That poor boy's life is ruined." Never mind that no one asked to be raped. Never mind that no one should have to entertain the possibility of being raped when they decided to drink. Never mind that many survivors had been wearing sweatpants when they were raped. And never fucking mind the fact that someone's life already had been ruined.

(Some people wondered why rape was such an underreported crime. Keira wasn't one of them.)

She closed the paper and slid it over to the chair where Jason usually sat, no longer in the mood for reading. While the past month had undoubtedly been worse for Alice than it had been for her, it hadn't exactly been a time she would look back on with fond memories. Between the concerned inquiries from her teammates (no matter how discreetly placed), the lengthy silences that filled her meetings with Dr. Luria, and Greg's irritating new habit of shuttling her off to the command truck more often than not, the SRU was feeling less like a job and more like an unpleasant routine that she had to perform every day.

Then there was Donna's recent transfer to Team Three, the unwelcome cherry on top of the suck sundae. Despite the rocky beginnings of their acquaintance, Donna had astonished Keira by backing off completely and not mentioning Alice at all—not unless Keira brought up the subject herself. As far as the older woman had been concerned, if Keira didn't want to talk about it, there was no point in wasting any energy on an interrogation. There had been a certain freedom in that, a certain relief in being able to walk into the locker room without the fear of having to dissect her feelings. It helped that Donna and Will had hit it off, which meant that Keira could go out to eat with them at the end of the day and feel like she had some semblance of a social life.

But now Donna was gone, though by all accounts she was doing well on her new team; and while Keira was glad to see Jules back, Jules had never been one for ignoring the elephant in a room. She wasn't rude about her inquiries, not by any stretch, but she certainly wasn't going to let Keira pretend that the call with Alice had never happened. Keira had since taken to slipping in and out of the locker room at odd times, something she was sure Jules had noticed and would eventually call her out on.

The morning quiet was interrupted by Jason barreling into the kitchen, only half of his police uniform on. Brian was right on his heels, waving a plastic sword around and asking his father if he could build a fort.

"Not now, buddy," Jason said distractedly, opening the freezer and taking out a pack of waffles. "Keira, when are you leaving for work?"

"In a few minutes," Keira replied, raising an eyebrow at her brother's uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. "Why?"

"We've got a problem," Jason announced, shoving some waffles into the toaster with one hand while trying to adjust his shirt with the other. "I just got a call from Brian's preschool. Ms. Honen's having a family emergency, so—"

"_Daddy_," Brian whined, "does this mean I can't bring in my sword for show-and-tell?"

"No, Brian, not today," Jason informed his son, before continuing to Keira, "So the school's closed for the day. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, because Allie could just take him into work, but she has to be at court and she can't watch him there. Now, _I_ would have taken him to work—"

"Daddy, are my waffles ready yet?"

"Not yet, Brian—except about two seconds after I hung up with Ms. Honen, my boss calls and tells me that there's a triple homicide—"

"Daddy, what's a hom-cide?"

"—and he needs everyone on deck, and since there's no way I can bring Brian to a triple homicide crime scene and still call myself a good parent—"

"Daddy, you're not listening to me!" Brian stamped his foot and, for added emphasis, drew out the word "me" until it was an impressive four syllables long.

Keira had an idea of where this was going. "Do you want me to call my boss and see if I can bring Brian in?" she asked.

Even as she spoke, she knew that this was a Very Bad Idea.

Jason let out a sigh of relief. "You are a lifesaver," he declared, reaching for the waffles in the toaster. A second later he hissed, having burned himself on the insides of the appliance.

"Hang on a sec, let me call him and make sure it's okay," Keira warned, not wanting to get her brother's hopes up. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and quickly dialed Parker's number.

Greg picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Keira, what's going on?"

As Brian started running around the kitchen, brandishing his sword and hollering like the phrase "indoor voice" was only a vague suggestion directed at other children, Keira hunkered down in her seat and blocked an ear. Pressing the other against her phone, she said in a rush, "I'm so sorry about this, but we're kind of having an emergency with Brian—basically his daycare canceled on us, Allie has to go to court and Jason was just called in on a triple homicide—and I was wondering if I could bring Brian in today? I'm so sorry, I know it's last-minute, but otherwise I'm going to have to take the day off, and I figured that if I brought him in at least there'd be someone at the station to keep an eye on him if we get a call, and maybe we won't even get a call—"

She could hear Greg chuckling on the other end of the line. "Keira, it's fine, don't worry about it," he told her. "We've all had those days when we can't find a babysitter." His voice sobered slightly, and Keira felt another pang of guilt: she knew he was thinking of his son, Dean, whom he hadn't seen in years. "You know, if we don't get a call, we can take things easy today, maybe show Brian around the station a bit."

Keira let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Boss. I appreciate it."

When they hung up, she twisted in her chair and looked at Brian. The toddler was busy stabbing an imaginary opponent with his sword, yelling things like "Take that!" and adding the occasional "I win!" for good measure. "Hey, sweetie, do you want to see where I work today?"

Brian stopped in his tracks. "I get to go to the _police _station?" he gasped, dropping the plastic sword.

Keira winked at Jason, who mouthed _thank you_ back at her. "That's right, we're going to the SRU today." A flash of inspiration hit her, and she asked, "Do you want to put on your police uniform before we leave?"

The words had barely left her mouth before Brian turned around and raced out of the kitchen, scampering up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Thank you so much for doing this," Jason said, throwing the waffles onto a plate and haphazardly squirting maple syrup over them. "And tell Greg I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I'm going to leave the booster seat in your car, okay?"

"Aren't you going to eat something?" Keira asked when he put the waffles down in front of Brian's chair.

"Does a protein bar count as something?"

Keira rolled her eyes. "Bring a couple more for the car ride."

"_Auntie K, I can't find it!_"

Brian's screech resounded throughout the kitchen. "All right, I better go," Keira said, sighing. "Good luck today."

Jason chuckled. "Honestly? I think you're the one who's going to need it."

* * *

><p>It took Brian and Keira several minutes to find the tiny police uniform, which had somehow found its way into Brian's toy chest, and by the time it was on its owner they were running seriously late. Keira did something that she was probably going to regret and allowed Brian to finish his waffles in her car, which completely thrilled him ("Daddy <em>never<em> lets me eat when we're driving!").

After a harrowing drive through early-morning traffic, which had Keira biting back several curses she would normally have let fly without hesitation, they finally arrived at the station. Keira herded Brian in through the front doors, delayed by the fact that he refused to let her carry him. ("Auntie K, I can do it _myself_!") He then insisted on gawking at everything in his path, which slowed them down even more.

At long last, they reached the front desk. Winnie was there, in the middle of a conversation with Greg; both of them glanced up when they heard Brian's shout of "Wow, it's so _big_!"

Winnie's face brightened at the sight of Brian in his police uniform. "I see someone's planning on joining the SRU when he grows up," she teased. "Are you Brian?"

Keira opened her mouth to respond, but Brian beat her to it. "I'm going to be a police officer when I grow up, just like my daddy!" he announced proudly, before biting his lip in perturbation. "How do you know my name?"

"Honey, these are my coworkers," Keira said, kneeling down beside him so that their heads were level. "The woman behind the desk is Winnie. She answers the phone and tells us where we need to go. And the man next to her is my boss, Greg. He's responsible for talking to people and making sure they don't do bad things."

Brian absorbed it all in, his eyes wide as saucers. "Do you tell Auntie K what to do?" he asked Greg.

Greg laughed in response, crouching down like Keira and extending a palm towards Brian. "That's right, I do," he replied, winking at Keira. "I'm a sergeant, just like your daddy."

"Wow!" Brian exclaimed, eagerly shaking Greg's hand. "That's _really_ cool!"

"What is this, some kind of weird squatting exercise that no one told me about?" Spike asked, strolling into the reception area with Lou at his side.

Brian glanced over Greg's shoulder, gasped in delight, and yelled, "SPIKE!" Launching himself across the room, he flung his arms around Spike's legs with so much force that the man nearly toppled over in surprise.

Keira suddenly found herself on the receiving end of a _very_ curious stare from her boss.

"Hey, buddy, long time no see!" Spike greeted Brian, ruffling the toddler's hair and cheerfully oblivious to the searching look Greg was giving him. "What are you doing here?"

"My school got canceled and Mommy and Daddy have work!" Brian reported gleefully.

"Lucky us," Spike replied, grinning so enthusiastically that, for a moment, Keira couldn't tell which of them was more excited. "And lucky Keira, too. Hey, has she introduced you to our friend Lou yet?"

Lou began muttering something about needing to hit the gym.

"Who's Lou?" Brian immediately asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Ah-ah-ah, Lou, get back here," Spike ordered, reaching up and yanking none too gently at Lou's jacket. "Be nice and say hello to our visitor."

Lou looked down at Brian, smiled uncomfortably, and waved. "Hey," he said.

"Hi, Lou!" Brian replied, waving. "Are you a policeman, too?"

"He's definitely not as cool a policeman as you," Spike said to Brian, grinning.

Brian, however, wasn't paying attention. His face had turned whiter than a ghost, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at something over Spike's shoulder.

"What's wrong, buddy?" Spike asked, twisting around to look. Keira saw only Ed, dressed in full uniform as he came out of the locker room. Evidently, he was heading to the gun cage.

"_It's the scary bald man_," Brian whispered, clutching at Spike's leg.

For a moment, there was dead silence as everyone realized whom Brian was talking about. Winnie pressed a hand to her mouth and ducked behind the counter, shaking with silent laughter; Spike tried valiantly to hold it back, but when a smile broke through both he and Lou were done.

Keira didn't know whether to find the situation hilarious or completely mortifying.

"What's going on?" Ed asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of half the team openly laughing at him. He glanced down, then looked back up. "My fly's not open," he added.

Chuckling, Greg responded, "Keira's nephew Brian seems to think that you're a—how did he phrase it?—a 'scary bald man.'"

"I'm so sorry," Keira said quickly, lest Ed think that she was encouraging Brian. "I told him not to last time…"

Interestingly, Greg wasn't taken aback by the revelation that Ed and Brian had met before; she supposed that Ed had told him all about their encounter in the grocery store, focusing especially on Will's role as co-babysitter. _Just what I wanted,_ she thought.

"Well, I'm definitely bald, but I'm not that scary," Ed told Brian, taking a few steps closer. Brian squeaked in alarm and hid behind Spike, clasping the man's legs so tightly that he couldn't move. "Okay, okay, I can take a hint." Ed raised his hands and backed away, much to the amusement of his coworkers. "I'll be at the shooting range if anyone needs me."

"Buddy, buddy, Ed doesn't bite," Spike assured Brian, gently disentangling himself from the boy's grasp.

"But he _shoots_!" Brian insisted, to gales of laughter from the others.

Spike could hardly argue with that.

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later, Keira left Brian with Spike—who was clearly itching to show off Babycakes, even though his audience would be a toddler to whom the words "don't touch" meant just about nothing—and took the opportunity to duck into the locker room. She had worked up a sweat from the drills, and the tiny beads trickling down her spine were uncomfortable at best.<p>

Since she was completely alone, and wasn't expecting any company—Jules was at a doctor's appointment—she took off her shirt and attempted a makeshift bath in the sink. Though it was undoubtedly more expedient than the shower, the sink did have its drawbacks: namely, the mirror above it. As she soaked a fistful of paper towels and dabbed at her back, the scars in her reflection rippled and twisted with every movement. There were so many of them, it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Her torso was a patchwork quilt of burn marks, each of them uglier than the last.

She remembered it like it was yesterday: the smell of gasoline right before she learned what hell was, the excruciating pain as her t-shirt melted onto her skin… but most of all the screams, hers and her mother's. They had been almost inhuman, the screams; a horrible, unearthly sound like nothing that had ever come out of her mouth before, nor since. Sometimes she dreamed about them, all those howls and shrieks clawing up her throat until she was choking on the agony. And when she ran out of breath, that was when her flesh started boiling down to the white bones beneath.

Keira suddenly realized that she was standing utterly still in front of the mirror, the wet paper towels dangling uselessly from her clenched fist. She grimaced and went back to work, scrubbing harder at her skin than she should have. The burns were shining red and raw by the time she was done.

It had been a long time since she had remembered in that much detail. At first, she hadn't been able to even think about it—the faintest trace of memory would probe at her brain and she would immediately shut down, telling herself, _I'm not thinking about it I'm not thinking about it I'm not thinking about it cars carrots fruit vegetables la la la I hope Jason comes to visit me soon I hate this hospital no I won't think about it I'm not thinking about it I'm not thinking about it snowmen ice penguins sharks whales I'm not thinking about it_.

But over a decade had gone by, and her burns didn't hurt anymore, and she had learned to deal with the memories. She had forced herself to relive that night, over and over again, until the only reaction it evoked was hatred. Then she had turned on the stove and stared into the flickering blue flames, switching them on and off until Jason had found out and made her stop—but not before she had conquered her fear of them.

At the sound of footsteps, she hurriedly pulled her shirt back on and threw out the paper towels. No one on the team besides Spike had seen her scars, and she intended to keep it that way.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Wordy's voice met her ears as she emerged from the locker room. Keira glanced over at the front desk, but the visitor was blocked by a support column. Shrugging, she headed towards the water fountain. Sometimes family members came in during lunch hour, which was how she had met Wordy's wife and Lou's parents; and sometimes it was a significant other, which was practically guaranteed to become incredibly awkward for whoever had invited them in.

The running water muffled the woman's response, but when Keira turned off the fountain and straightened she heard the tail end of Wordy's reply. "…back in a moment." After a pause, the constable added, "That's a nasty bruise you've got there." His tone was gentle, yet inquiring.

Curious, Keira approached the front desk. She could see Wordy now, his face dark as he exchanged a concerned glance with Winnie. The visitor's back was to her, but, judging by the hair and the stooped shoulders, it was an elderly woman. Keira grimaced, wondering if she was disoriented. Most people went to the hospital when they were injured, not the SRU.

She wasn't the only one who was checking out the visitor. Lou and Sam were ostensibly working out in the background, but neither of them were lifting the weights in their hands. At one point Sam leaned over to mutter something to Lou, his eyes never leaving the woman. Lou shrugged uneasily.

As Keira approached, planning on walking by and casually turning her head to see the bruise that Wordy was talking about, her teammate glanced up and saw her. The look on his face froze her in her tracks, though for a moment she didn't understand why. Then the elderly woman turned around, and all the air left Keira's lungs with a sickening _whoosh_.

"Mom?" she whispered.


	32. Karma

**A/N:** So, I haven't updated this story in about four months. Which is about how long I've been struggling to write this confrontation scene. The problem with having Keira's mother show up at the SRU is, of course, that all the members of Team One are going to be there - which, when you add Brian and Jason into the mix, means that there are a hell of a lot of people to move around on the proverbial chessboard. I still haven't finished the confrontation, and to be honest I have no idea how I'm going to write one particular part of it, but I thought I'd post what I've written so far (since it's a chapter's worth already).

I apologize for the delay, and I hope this chapter isn't too clunky!

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Two: Karma<strong>

_I've died,_ Keira thought in disbelief. _I've died and gone straight to hell._

That was the only explanation she could think of for how her mother, who hated traveling and had never left the suburbs of Vancouver, had wound up halfway across the country and in the headquarters of the SRU.

"Keira, honey?" her mother whispered, her thin voice trembling under the weight of the words.

No, this couldn't be hell. This was worse than hell.

Keira gaped at the woman in front of her, scarcely able to recognize her. Ten years was a long time, but somehow she hadn't expected Diane to have grey hair, or to seem so small and insignificant. Sadly enough, it was the bruise on her face—an ugly mingling of black and blue that sprawled across her features, a few days old by the looks of it—that had helped Keira make the connection. She remembered the mornings her mother had spent in front of the mirror, applying layers upon layers of concealer before she was ready to go grocery shopping.

"Keira," her mother murmured again, stepping tentatively towards her. Keira vaguely realized that she was supposed to respond, but she didn't know how; she was frozen in place, part of her still waiting to wake up from what was turning into a horrible nightmare. This couldn't be happening. Not here, not in front of half her coworkers.

Seeing no signs of resistance, Diane approached her for the first time in over a decade. _Say something!_ Keira's brain yelled at her, struggling to break through the numbness that had seeped into her very bones. _Don't just stand there like an idiot!_

It wasn't until her mother tried to hug her, though, that all the hurt and anger came flooding back. The second Diane's arms began to close around her shoulders, the memories awakened, and her body reacted immediately in self-defense.

As if of their own accord, Keira's hands shot out and pushed her mother away from her as hard as she possibly could. Diane stumbled back, shocked, and Keira immediately put more distance between the two of them. "Don't touch me," she snarled, practically choking on her hatred.

"Keira, please," her mother begged, her puffy eyes welling up with tears. The sight was repulsive.

"Don't!" Keira repeated, her voice rising. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she vaguely recalled that she had spent years rehearsing what she would say to Diane if they ever met again; but all the carefully-wrought words had vanished, leaving her grasping for the first thing that came to mind. "How the hell did you find me?" she demanded, trembling with fury.

In the brief silence that followed, Keira realized that she was making a scene in front of her coworkers. Wordy and Winnie were alternately gaping at her and exchanging looks with each other, and Winnie's fingers were already sneaking towards her keyboard. Lou and Sam had stood up and were closing in, silent and watchful. Keira knew that there would be no talking her way out of this one, and she wanted to strangle her mother for it.

"I-I looked you up on the internet," Diane stammered. Keira was tempted to make a snide comment about her learning how to Google—her mother had never been good with technology—but she was too angry to even be petty. "There was an article… It said you were here. It said you saved a girl's life."

Local newspapers didn't usually identify the officers involved in a call, unless something went horrendously wrong or there was an investigation afterwards, but it was entirely possible that Alice (or, more likely, Alice's mother) had said something to the press. It was ironic, Keira thought bitterly, that helping someone put their life together had set in motion a chain of events that would unravel her own.

She looked at her mother, wondering if it was even possible to loathe someone this much. She didn't know what enraged her more: the fact that Diane had turned a blind eye when Keira needed her the most, or that she thought she could just waltz right back into her life and _hug_ her like it was one happy fucking reunion.

All of a sudden, she was glad she wasn't carrying her gun.

"Why are you here?" she asked coldly, trying to restrain herself from doing anything stupid.

"I… I just wanted to see you…" Diane replied, but her voice trailed away at the look on Keira's face.

"Well, great, now you have. And now you can leave," Keira said, folding her arms across her chest.

Her mother didn't move. "Keira, I—"

"Don't," Keira said again, louder this time. "Don't even bother. I have zero interest in talking to you. In fact, it's probably negative. I'm at work right now. You need to leave."

It was all coming out wrong. This wasn't the dream conversation where she yelled and screamed at her mother and _really_ made her feel sorry for everything she had done; this was crappy, stilted dialogue, her own voice so wooden as to almost be unrecognizable.

"He's dead."

At first, the words didn't register. Keira just wanted her mother to stop looking at her like that, to shut the hell up and _leave_ so that she couldn't ruin anything else.

And then, a moment later, it hit her. "_What_?"

"He's dead," Diane whispered, her grey eyes welling up with tears. "Jim's dead."

Keira stepped backwards, shaking her head. She could hear her shallow breaths echoing in her ears, but her lungs weren't getting enough oxygen—something was tightening inside her chest, squeezing and squeezing until she thought she was going to pass out. So she was supposed to accept that he was six feet under now? When she still dreamed of him, when she could still feel him climbing into her bed at night? And meanwhile her mother was here, in Toronto? For how long?

"Keira? Please say something. I know it's hard…"

"Hard?" Keira repeated, blinking. "_Hard_? You think it's—" She broke off, mindful of the others. If there weren't enough warning bells going off in their heads already, the last thing she wanted was for them to hear how much she hated her stepfather.

Abruptly making a decision, she told her mother, "Follow me."

"What?" Diane asked, bewildered, as Keira pushed by her on the way to the briefing room. "W-Where are we going?"

"You want to talk? Then we'll talk," Keira called over her shoulder, not bothering to look back. "Wordy, not now," she muttered as Wordy tried to pull her aside.

He didn't give up, following her through the gym in a futile effort to detain her. "What's going on?" he asked quietly. "We can help—"

Keira wrenched away from him. "It's nothing I can't handle on my own. So don't drag the boss into this."

The look on Wordy's face confirmed her suspicions: that Winnie had already sent covert messages to the absent team members, calling them in to deal with the situation. They would be here any minute, ready to pry open every last one of her secrets. All because her fucking mother thought she was entitled enough to simply drop back into her life, after over a decade of no contact.

"Get in here," she snapped, glaring at Diane as she held open the door to the briefing room. Her mother obeyed, meek as ever, and for a moment Keira seriously thought about grabbing her and smashing her head into the wall. She could see it—see the blood and brain matter dripping down the walls, her mother's crumpled body lying at her feet—and it was a mark of how much she despised the woman that only two things held her back: her job, and the thought of what Will and Jason would say if she went through with it.

After an incident in which Ed's former mentor had barricaded himself in the briefing room and attempted to commit suicide, the room's security system had been updated. Fortunately for Keira, Spike had done all the work—and he had cheerfully explained to her exactly what the new precautions were, never guessing that she would have a reason to use this knowledge. Silently thanking Spike for his thoroughness, Keira went about dismantling the entire system. Although her coworkers could still whip out an infrared camera to check in on her, they wouldn't be able to see or hear much of anything.

"What are you doing?" Diane asked her more than once; but Keira ignored her until she had disconnected the last camera, at which point she turned around and said:

"Tell me how he died."

"W-What?"

"You heard me." Keira advanced on her mother, thinking of all the different ways in which she could have killed her right then and there. It must have shown in her eyes, because Diane took several steps backwards. "Tell me exactly how he died. Every last detail."

"I-I—"

"Preferably before Christmas."

Diane swallowed, tears glistening in her eyes. Keira watched her remorselessly, part of her still unable to reconcile herself to the fact that Jim was dead. He would only be in his late fifties, meaning that it couldn't have been natural causes. God, she hoped it had hurt.

"It was a car accident," Diane finally managed, her voice so quiet that Keira had to reluctantly move closer to hear her. "H-He got cut off on the highway and h-hit an abutment… Th-The car caught on fire, and he couldn't get out in time…"

A grin started tugging at the corners of Keira's mouth. "He _burned_ to death?" she demanded, hardly daring to believe it.

"Th-They think he was alive for twenty minutes," Diane choked out. "He felt everything."

That was when Keira began to laugh.

She laughed so hard that her sides hurt, that she had to double over and clutch at her stomach. She laughed until she was practically screaming, until she didn't recognize her own voice, until she didn't think she would ever stop laughing. The more she thought of Jim being burned alive, the harder she laughed, because nothing in that moment was funnier or more perfect than the way in which karma had finally caught up to her stepfather.

As another wave of laughter overtook her, she thought giddily, _I have to tell Jason about this._

* * *

><p>"Babycakes is the <em>coolest<em>!" Brian exclaimed, staring up at Spike in awe. "But why is it a girl?"

"Because girls are smart and they don't take any crap from bad guys." Spike grinned. "Just like your aunt."

Brian mulled this over. "Auntie K doesn't like bad guys. She says that she wants to take them to court like where Mommy works and then Daddy says that there isn't a statue and then Auntie K says that she won't do it anyway. And then she uses bad words only Daddy says I can't say them. How old is Babycakes?"

It took a moment for Spike to process what Brian was saying; then, frowning, he asked, "Your aunt wants to take the bad guys to court?"

Brian nodded. "Because she says they get away with everything and it's not fair."

Before Spike could figure out how to respond to that—_Is she trying to figure out who her rapist was? Was there more than one?_—his cell phone buzzed, and a text message from Winnie appeared on the screen.

_Situation at front desk,_ it read. _Keira Ford's mother here. Not a happy reunion. Argument escalating._

Spike's eyebrows shot up. He didn't know anything about Keira's home life—the closest he'd ever gotten was an admission that she wasn't close to her parents, and even that had required some serious coaxing. But there was something else, something she'd said recently…

_My mom doesn't give a shit about me._

That was what she'd told Alice, revealing that she had never confided in her mother about her rape. At the time, it had scarcely registered amid all the other horrifying details of her past; it was a throwaway comment, something that had seemed a little odd but was quickly forgotten. Now, it came rushing back. Keira's mother didn't care about her—or, at least, Keira believed that she didn't. Why? And why was the mother here today?

"Does Babycakes have a mommy and daddy?" Brian asked just then, peering with interest at the machine.

"Uh… I'm not sure, buddy. What do you think?" As he spoke, Spike sent Winnie a response: _Want to help. Got Brian with me. Any chance we can get someone to watch him? Don't think he should know._

"I think Babycakes has a robot mommy and a robot daddy and they live in a big robot house."

"Yeah?" Spike glanced impatiently at his phone. _Come on, Winnie,_ he thought. "And what kind of TV shows do all these robots watch?"

Brian looked at him as if he were asking what one plus one equaled. "Power Rangers, _duh_!"

"Does Babycakes want to be a Power Ranger?" _What the hell am I even saying?_

"I think Babycakes wants to be the red Power Ranger," Brian replied seriously. "But she can't be the red Power Ranger, because _I'm_ the red Power Ranger. I'm always red, because red is the best. But Babycakes can be pink, because Auntie K says pink is the best, even though she's wrong because _red_ is the best, duh." He waved his hands in the air, emphasizing his point.

At last, at long last, Spike's phone buzzed. _I can take care of him,_ Winnie's message read. _I'll come to you._

She was there in three minutes, which was the amount of time it took for Spike to inform Brian that he had "important police business" to attend to—and that the best way for Brian to contribute to said police business was for him to do everything that Winnie said. Spike had no idea how long the ruse would last, but hopefully Winnie would be able to handle him for a while.

"Bye, Spike!" Brian exclaimed as Winnie led him away.

"Bye, big guy. And Winnie? Thanks."

"Good luck."

Spike entered the lobby a moment later and quickly scanned his surroundings. Keira was nowhere in sight; but Lou, Ed, and Sam were clustered behind the front desk, Lou frowning at the computer while the other two leaned over his shoulders. "How the hell did she turn it off?" Ed was demanding as Spike approached.

"Guys, what's going on?" Spike asked. "Where's Keira?"

Sam glanced up at him. "She's in the briefing room."

"Yeah, and she locked herself in there with her mother before disabling our brand-new security system," Lou added grimly. "We're trying to figure out how to get it back on."

Spike's eyes widened. "She locked herself inside?" This was starting to sound less like an argument and more like the breakdown that, by his reckoning, Keira should have had a long time ago. "And she's not responding to anyone?"

Sam nodded towards the gym. "The boss is trying to talk to her. And we've got Wordy looking for ways to get a camera in, but she knows all the ones that we have."

Spike glanced over and saw Wordy crouched against the wall of the briefing room, setting up a small camera to slip through; Greg was stationed against the door, leaning in close so as to better communicate with the room's occupants.

Ed's voice drew his attention back to the desk. "Spike, do you have any idea how to get this thing running again?" He pointed to the computer. "I don't know how she managed to disable it, but we've got nothing."

"I'll see what I can do," Spike said, wondering about that as well. How _had_ Keira figured out how to turn the cameras off? Not that she wasn't smart—quite the opposite, actually, she always outscored him on their written tests—but security systems definitely weren't her forte. And he'd installed this one himself, just to make sure that there wouldn't be a repeat incident of what had happened with Ed's mentor…

And suddenly it dawned on him, the full measure of his stupidity. "Guys," he said, the blood rushing out of his face, "Keira was there when I installed everything. And I told her exactly what someone would have to do to get past it."

"Seriously?" Sam asked.

"How was he supposed to know she'd pull something like this?" Lou replied, raising his eyebrows.

Spike was barely listening to them. "I'm such an idiot," he breathed. "I didn't even think—"

"Doesn't matter," Ed cut him off. "Can you get us back in?"

"Yeah, but it's going to take a while to override everything. And are you sure this is a good idea? Because if they're just talking, and we listen in on it and Keira finds out…" As much as barricading herself in the briefing room was a warning sign, Keira had always gone to extreme lengths to protect her privacy—what if she just wanted to converse with her mother away from prying eyes?

Sam shook his head. "You weren't there when she saw her mother. The mother tried to hug her, and Keira pushed her away. With a lot more force than she needed to."

"It was ugly," Lou added. "She said she didn't want to talk to her, and then the mother said that someone named Jim was dead. That was when Keira took her into the briefing room."

"Jim?" Spike echoed. "Who's that?"

"That's her stepfather," said a voice behind them.

Will had returned from the shooting range; and he'd apparently left in a hurry, because he was just taking off his protective glasses. "Where's Keira?" he asked, before any of them had time to inquire about Jim. "Is she okay? Is her mother still here?"

When they explained the situation to him, he paled and started towards the briefing room—but Ed pulled him back, saying, "Not so fast. We need some answers."

"I need to talk to her—"

"No, what you need to do is start telling us about the family dynamics here. What's the deal with Keira and her parents?"

Before Will could respond—although, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish, Spike didn't think he was going to be capable of forming an answer any time soon—Greg and Wordy returned from the gym.

"She saw me putting in the camera," Wordy announced, holding up a thin wire. "She's got the other half."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "She broke the camera?"

"She knows that stuff's expensive," Lou muttered.

"Actually, she was nice enough to screw it off here," Wordy said, showing them how the camera was made of two detachable parts. "So we'll be able to re-attach it later."

"Which means she's not tunnel-visioning."

Spike half-listened to the conversation, more interested in observing Will. The younger man kept glancing at the briefing room, clenching and unclenching his fists, jaw rigid with unease. It was obviously costing him every last bit of self-control to remain where he was; and if Spike had the ability to read minds, the inside of Will's would probably be a constant loop of _Keira Keira Keira_.

The differences between the two of them had never been more apparent. As concerned as Spike was about Keira, and as much as he cared for her, he knew he was going to be able to compartmentalize those worries and concentrate on whatever task Ed or the boss saw fit to assign him. If they asked him to pull up the camera footage, he would do it. If they asked him to assist with an entry into the briefing room, he would do it.

Will, on the other hand… Spike knew, without a doubt, that Will would break the priority of life code for Keira. Had known, in fact, for a while. Will wasn't going to be able to remain objective today; he was going to resist helping them if it meant digging too deeply into Keira's past.

"Greg, any luck?" Ed asked.

The others quieted as Greg took a deep breath. "She said she just wants some privacy. But I don't like it—not after what Wordy and Winnie told me. And I could barely get a word out of the mother."

"Has anyone tried calling the brother?" Lou wanted to know.

Greg shook his head. "I just did, he's not answering his phone."

In the silence that fell, Ed turned to face Will. "Time to start talking," he said.


	33. A Test of Loyalty

**Chapter Thirty-Three: A Test of Loyalty**

There were few things more unpleasant than being interrogated by Ed Lane, but—as Will was fast discovering—being interrogated by Ed Lane about Keira in front of the entire team was definitely among them.

"About what?" Will asked, his heart sinking. He wasn't like Keira; he couldn't lie the way she did, so convincingly that he would find himself believing her even when he knew the truth. But he didn't want to tell the others about all the times she'd crawled in through his window just to fall to pieces in his arms—that was private, something of Keira's that wasn't his to give away.

"Don't play dumb with us, McKnight," Ed growled, stepping in closer until it was difficult to see anything beyond him. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. What are we looking at here with Keira and her mother? What's going on with the stepfather?"

"I don't know—"

"Bullshit. You know damn well what's going on. You're just lying to us because you think you're doing her a favor. Only what you're actually doing is allowing the situation to escalate and making it harder for us to help her."

"Ed."

At the sound of Greg's voice, Ed reluctantly moved back, keeping his gaze firmly on Will.

"Let's start at the beginning," Greg said calmly. He was addressing Will, but an eye still lingered on Ed.

"The beginning," Will repeated.

And he remembered peeking at Keira from behind his mother's legs, his fascination with the two braids hanging down her back. An endless cycle of play dates. Catching frogs, fireflies, and anything else they could get their hands on. The woods behind their homes, Keira always wanting to venture further in than they were allowed. "What if we just kept going and never came back?" she'd asked once, and Will had stared so blankly at her that she never brought it up again.

With Keira, there was no such thing as the beginning. His pre-Keira memories simply didn't exist. She had always been there, a constant frame of reference in his life.

"Prior to today, how would you describe Keira's relationship with her mother?" Greg inquired, drawing him back to the present.

He answered truthfully. "If Keira had her way, there wouldn't be any relationship."

"And why is that?"

"It had something to do with her stepfather," Will hedged. "The guy was—well, he was a jackass. And Keira's mother sided with him on everything."

"A lot of children have problems adjusting to new parent figures," Greg replied; but his tone was probing, rather than dismissive.

Will shook his head, conscious of his teammates' stares. "This was different."

"How so?"

He didn't know how to explain the hatred that filled Keira's eyes whenever she talked about Jim, so he settled on, "The stepfather used to do things like… like when Jason went off to college, Jim would only let them talk on the phone once a month. But then he'd give her this impossibly long list of chores that she had to do if she wanted to talk to him, so she'd spend all day raking and vacuuming and dusting, only for him to find the one leaf that she'd missed—and then that was it, she didn't get to talk to him for another month. And this was when we were _ten_. It was messed up."

"And Keira's mother? She supported the husband?" Parker inquired.

Will nodded. "She would just tell Keira to try harder the next time."

"So, Keira feels like she's being betrayed, like she can't count on her mother." Greg raised his eyebrows. "Is that what today is about?"

"No, it's—" Will broke off, frustrated. "I don't know what it's about. But it's not just that she's feeling betrayed. She hates her mother. And I'm not exaggerating—the only person she hates more is her stepfather. As far as I know, she hasn't spoken to either of them in over ten years. So for her mother to drop in on her like this, when she thought she'd completely cut off contact…"

Greg fixed him with a sharp stare. "Something else is at play here, then?"

When Will didn't respond, Ed snapped, "The boss just asked you a question."

"I don't know," Will retorted, his hands curling into fists.

"Your girlfriend hated her parents and you never bothered to ask why?"

"Eddie," Greg said warningly.

"Of course I fucking asked," Will snarled. "But I'm not an asshole, so when she blew me off I dropped it."

In one swift motion, Ed stepped forward and grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, shoving him back into the counter. "You're out of line."

"And calling her my girlfriend to get a rise out of me isn't?" Will demanded.

"Guys, this isn't helping Keira," Spike remarked from somewhere behind Will. Greg and Wordy were of like mind: they both helped to drag Ed back, Wordy keeping a tight grip on Ed's arm.

"Spike's right," Parker said. "We need to focus on Keira and her mother. Will, is there any other information you can give us?"

He remembered driving Keira back from classmates' parties, listening as she drunkenly begged him not to take her home. Having to reassure her, over and over again, that they were going to his house instead.

He remembered Keira applying for over a hundred scholarships in their senior year of high school, determined to pay her own way through college so that she would never have to rely on her parents again.

He remembered Keira bursting into tears when their families said goodbye and left them on their own at UBC—not because she was upset to see them go, but because she no longer had to see Jim on a daily basis. "I can't believe I finally got away from him," she'd choked out before averting her eyes, embarrassed.

"Will?"

"No, boss," he quickly replied.

He thought he saw something like disappointment flash through Greg's eyes, which was worse than anything Ed could have said to him. "Are you sure?"

Will swallowed. "I'm sure."

"All right, Spike, you're up." It was Ed who had spoken. Wrenching away from Wordy, he added, "I want everything you can get on Keira and her family, including Jason. Every record you have access to."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Wordy interjected, as Will made a similar noise of dissent. "Are we really going to start spying on her? She's our teammate."

"Well, since Will couldn't come up with anything useful," Ed replied, earning himself a cold stare from Will—"yes. Spike?"

"Eddie, hang on a minute," Greg said. Spike paused, his hands hovering over Winnie's keyboard, awaiting the outcome of the debate. "Let's look at our other options."

"Boss, I don't see what those options are. Jason's not answering his phone, Will either can't or won't tell us—"

"Hey, I already told you what I know," Will snapped.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Ed retorted, rounding on him. "I think you know a lot more than you're letting on. And right now, you're holding back on us. So either you start talking, or we're going to start digging. Take your pick."

They stared at each other for a heated moment, Will's face red with anger and Ed's mouth slowly thinning. Finally, without looking away from Will, Ed said, "Spike, go."

* * *

><p>Will's stomach tightened as he watched Spike hunch over the keyboard, ready to expose every last detail of Keira's life. He was torn between wanting to grab the other man and yank him away from the computer—wasn't his relationship with Keira, whatever it was, worth more than this violation of her privacy?—and a selfish desire for answers to the questions that had plagued him for years. On the verge of discovering the truth, was he going to clap his hands over his ears and make feeble protests that no one would listen to?<p>

Protect Keira, or find out what was wrong with her… The two urges were utterly at war with each other; and meanwhile Spike's fingers were flying over the keys, pulling up her family's records. In less than thirty seconds, the secrecy she had fought so hard to maintain was gone, every traceable detail of her life on the screen for all her coworkers to see.

"Okay, so, we've got Keira and Jason's files," Spike said matter-of-factly; as if he and Keira were no more than acquaintances, as if he had never made love to her. "Only—hang on a sec—Jason's record stops when he's ten, and we've got nothing until he's nineteen. And there's nothing on Keira's childhood."

"Nothing?" Greg echoed, peering over his shoulder.

"Yeah, apart from a birth notice she basically doesn't exist until she gets arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct at the age of twenty." Spike's eyes widened as he read the report, and Will had to resist the inclination to snatch the mouse out of his hands and rip all the cords out of the computer. "The police wound up not pressing charges because it was a first time offense. But I've got nothing on her before that. And Diane Ford's record stops ages ago."

"That's because you're using the wrong name," Will said quietly.

Six pairs of eyes zeroed in on him. "What do you mean?" Greg finally asked.

Will sighed. As unhappy as he was about contributing to the team's efforts, he knew he couldn't withhold such a small thing from them. "When Keira's mother remarried, she changed their last names to the stepfather's—Richardson."

"And then Keira and Jason both changed them back," Greg said.

Will nodded. "Keira filed the paperwork as soon as she turned nineteen." He recalled accompanying Keira and Jason on the trip, Keira's face flushed with excitement as she grinned at him from the passenger seat of her brother's car. She had spent every last penny of her savings that afternoon, and then some—if Jason hadn't chipped in, she wouldn't have been able to afford the legal fees. "Even before that, she would always tell our teachers on the first day of school that she went by Ford, not Richardson. Most of the kids in our grade thought it was funny, but she was completely serious about it. Whenever one of the teachers slipped up, she refused to answer them."

Sam arched his eyebrows. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

"That's Keira for you," Spike murmured.

Ed fixed Will with a challenging stare. "And you have no idea why she would do something like that."

"Guys, I've got something," Spike announced, interrupting what might have devolved into another confrontation. Will's relief at no longer being the center of attention was short-lived, however, as he now had to worry about whatever information Spike had dug up. "Back in 1996, there was a domestic call at Keira's house. Jason got arrested for assault and battery—he beat up the stepfather so badly, the guy was in the hospital for a week."

Will blinked. "I remember that. It happened our junior year."

"Did Keira ever talk to you about it?" Greg asked, looking like he already knew the answer.

"She said that the two of them got into a fight, and then it turned physical. She didn't say what it was about."

"And you didn't ask her?" Ed stared incredulously at him.

"No," Will said shortly. "I've never forced her to talk about something she didn't want to. That's not how our friendship worked."

"So she never told you why Jason beat up their stepfather?" Ed persisted. "And you just let it go?"

"She said it was an argument that got out of hand. I never found out what it was about."

"There's nothing in the police report, either," Spike said, drawing the others' attention away from Will again. "According to the officer on duty, Jason refused to explain why he did it—he just kept telling them to ask Jim."

"And did they?" Greg wanted to know.

"Doesn't look like they got a chance. Once he got out of the hospital, he told the police he wasn't going to press any charges. Jason walked completely free."

"So the guy gets beaten up by his stepson, and he doesn't do anything about it?" Sam asked, furrowing his brow. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Makes sense if he had something to hide," Wordy pointed out.

A tense silence followed his remark, the members of the team glancing at one another. Will noticed that Greg's gaze lingered on Wordy; then, with a sigh, he turned to Will and asked, "Will, is there any possibility that Keira and Jason were being abused by their stepfather?"

For a long moment, Will couldn't speak. He felt sick at the mere thought; every fiber of his being rejected it as impossible, as abhorrent. It couldn't be—Jim was an asshole, but—he would have known, he would have figured it out—not Keira.

Will shook his head, trying to erase the image of Keira cowering beneath Jim's fists. "No. No. No way—she would have told me."

"Somehow, I _really_ doubt that," Spike said, raising his eyebrows.

Will's temper flared, igniting long-buried embers of resentment towards his coworker. "Yeah?" he snapped. "I'm sorry, and what did she ever tell you about her home life?"

"Stop acting like you're the only one who cares about her—"

"Whoa, hey," Greg interjected as the two of them glared at each other. Lou put a staying hand on Spike's shoulder. "We all know that Keira's a private person, even with the people closest to her. Especially with the people closest to her. But right now, this is all just speculation—and what we need is answers. So Spike, Will, are you ready to help find them? Spike?"

"Yeah, boss," Spike replied, his eyes never leaving Will's.

"Will?"

At the rate things were going, Will didn't know if he was ever going to be able to look at Spike without wanting to punch him in the face. (It didn't help that the rational part of him, the part that had been trained to psychologically profile someone, suspected that the main reason for his dislike of the other man was purely selfish.) And he hated the fact that "finding answers" entailed digging through Keira's past, when she would never have voluntarily offered this information to any of them. But the others were watching him expectantly, so he swallowed his pride and nodded.

"Okay," Parker said. "Spike, let's put the records aside for now and concentrate on getting the cameras in the briefing room back up. I'm going to try and call Jason again, see if we can get through to him. Wordy, why don't you keep an eye on Keira and her mother with the infrared camera. At least we'll be able to tell if things are escalating."

As Wordy jogged back to his equipment, Greg pulled out his phone and hit the redial button. This time, the call went through.

"Jason Ford speaking."

"Jason, it's Greg Parker."

When Jason responded, his voice was significantly louder. "Did something happen to Brian? To Keira? Are they okay?"

"Brian's fine," Greg assured him. "In fact, he's getting a tour around the station as we speak. But look, Jason… your mother's here."

For a moment, only silence crackled through the speakers. "What?" Jason finally asked, stunned. "How?"

"Apparently she found Keira's name online and tracked her down here. She—"

"Her husband," Jason interrupted frantically. "Jim. Is he with her?"

"No, he isn't."

"Oh, thank God." Jason's ragged breathing echoed through the phone.

Greg raised his eyebrows. "You sound relieved."

There was a pause, as if Jason had just realized he'd spoken aloud. "Let's just say he wasn't a candidate for any stepfather of the year awards."

"That's not going to do it for me, Jason." Greg's voice was gentle yet firm, his words non-negotiable. "Keira's barricaded herself in the briefing room with your mother, and she's disabled the cameras. We have no idea what's going on in there, and we're going to need your help."

"Keira's alone with our mother?" Jason demanded.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, God. Please tell me she doesn't have her gun."

Jason's words echoed throughout the lobby, their impact making Will recoil. His first instinct was to protest. _Not Keira,_ he thought, stunned. _She would never—not with Brian—_and maybe he was right. Maybe Keira, who loved her nephew, wouldn't risk missing out on so much of his life. But then he remembered all the nights she'd sobbed out her hatred in his arms, all the variants of "I want to fucking kill her" that he'd heard over the years; and suddenly, he felt a lot less certain about how far she was willing to go for the revenge she'd always wanted.

The other members of the team glanced at one another, sharing his trepidation—if not the reasons for it. Greg's eyes had narrowed into slits. "Jason, are you saying that Keira might try to kill your mother?" he asked.

An excruciating silence followed, long enough to raise all the hairs on the back of Will's neck.

"I don't know," Jason finally admitted. "I don't know what she'd be capable of."


	34. Revelations

**A/N:** So, um, yeah, it's been a while. Let's catch up: in the past six months, I've finished my thesis, graduated college, obtained employment, and... finished this story! That's right, you are about to read the last eleven chapters of Breathe. I'm going to be posting regularly (!); my plan is to upload a new chapter every Tuesday, starting with today. And by the time I upload the final chapter, I might even have an extra one-shot or two. ;)

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

**Recap (since I'm sure it's needed):** Keira brought her nephew Brian to work, where she had an unwelcome visitor: her mother, Diane, whom she hadn't seen in over a decade. It was not a pleasant reunion. When Keira barricaded herself and Diane in the briefing room, Greg called Jason to find out what was going on. Upon discovering that Keira and Diane were alone together, Jason became extremely worried, asking if Keira had her gun. The chapter ended with Greg asking Jason whether or not Keira might kill Diane, and Jason admitting he didn't know.

**Final note:** I've tweaked one minor thing from the last chapter - Greg has not told Jason that Jim is dead, so Will doesn't know yet either.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Four: Revelations<strong>

Ed was firing off instructions before Jason finished speaking. "Spike, we need eyes in that room now. Sam, Lou, check the gun cage—make sure everything's in there. I want a full inventory. Call it in when you're done."

"I'm still working on the cameras," Spike reported as Sam and Lou left the lobby. "I have to override the system, and it's going to take a while. But we've got Wordy on infrared, and he'll be able to tell us if she pulls out a weapon."

_But she wouldn't do that,_ Will wanted to say, weak though his protests sounded even to himself. _Don't talk about her like she's one of your subjects._

"What do you mean, 'it's going to take a while'? How long are we talking here?"

Will didn't listen to Spike's response: Jason was talking again, his voice coming in rapid-fire from the speakers. "I'll be there as soon as I can get someone to cover me. Is there any way you can keep the two of them apart?"

"We're doing the best we can to keep things from escalating," Parker replied; "but frankly, Jason, we need more to work with than what you've given us. If you want to help your sister and your mother, the best way for you to do that is to tell us what's going on."

It took Jason a while to answer. When he finally did, he sounded exhausted, as though he'd undergone a brutal training regimen in the time that had elapsed. "It's been over a decade, and Keira still can't talk about our mother without getting angry. I don't blame her for it, but it's… it's hard when she's like that."

"Why is she angry?"

Parker was calm, gentle; but still Jason hesitated. "She's never forgiven our mother. Not for—" He broke off, sighing. "Look, I promised her…"

"Jason, I'm going to ask you a difficult question. And I'd like you to answer truthfully—because if you don't, and we try to help Keira and your mother based on inaccurate information, it's only going to make things worse for them."

Jason exhaled. "This is about Jim, isn't it."

"Was he abusing you and your sister?"

As it turned out, Jason didn't need to answer. His silence was more than enough to fill in the blanks, more than enough to hit Will like a punch in the gut. He was dimly aware of the looks the others were exchanging, of the way Spike had swallowed and avoided Lou's gaze; but he didn't want to accept it, didn't want to believe that something so horrible could have happened to Keira without his being aware of it.

"Not just us," Jason finally admitted. "Our mother, too."

"What kind of abuse are we talking about here? Emotional, verbal, physical—"

"Everything," Jason said softly. "It started a few months into their marriage. I was eleven. Keira was in preschool. She had to watch him beat the crap out of our mother, then start in on me. He did it all in front of her."

_"What if we just kept going and never came back?" Keira asked, staring pensively into the woods. Away from their homes._

The hints had been there all along, Will realized—he had just never picked up on them.

_Keira rolled down the waistband of her track shorts, revealing a yellow and purple splotch across her hip. "Can you believe this?" she asked, poking at it. Will winced. "Tripped right over a hurdle. I don't even know how this shit happens."_

Will couldn't breathe. The truth had been staring him in the face the entire time; Keira had displayed it right out there in the open. The boldest, most heartbreaking way of keeping her secret. And he hadn't suspected a thing.

Somehow, Greg's voice managed to break through his horrified thoughts. "And when did Jim start hitting her?"

"Her fifth birthday." Jason's voice trembled with disgust. "I remember because she got a little drawing book, with this space inside to put her name, and she wrote Keira Ford. Except we'd changed our last name to Richardson—his last name—and Jim went ballistic. He started going off on how we were disrespecting him, how we'd had plenty of time to get used to him, that he was a part of the family now, etcetera. And then he tried to hit her."

"Tried to?" Parker echoed.

There was a pause. "When your little sister's about to get beaten up like that, you don't just stand there and let her take it."

"You have to protect your sibling. I understand."

"With all due respect, Greg—unless you've been in that situation yourself, you have no idea what it's like. If I ever stepped out of line with Jim, Keira was the one who got punished; he would just wait until I was gone to do it. By the time I was in high school, whenever a friend invited me to hang out I'd have to ask myself whether it was worth the possibility of her getting hurt. And then when I went to college—she would always try to hide it from me, but I knew he was making her life a living hell. It got to the point where I hired a lawyer to see if I could become her legal guardian, just to get her out of the house. But she didn't want me to."

"She didn't want you do?" Greg inquired, his brow furrowing. "Why not?"

Jason exhaled. "Because of Will."

Will felt, rather than saw, his teammates' gazes swing towards him. He slumped over the desk, unable to continue standing, and braced his elbows against the granite.

What he wanted was for Jason to stop speaking, but what he got was a thousand times worse.

"Keira said that… that he was the only person keeping her sane. The McKnights were pretty much her family, you know, what she should have had at home. She wanted to leave so badly, but she couldn't stand the thought of not seeing them anymore. Especially Will. She was hoping… well, she was hoping that once they went off to college, she could convince him to come with her. Or something. She never really got the chance to figure it out. I guess you know why."

"Yeah, I know," Greg said; or something like that, anyway, because the words turned into an indecipherable mumble playing second fiddle to the roaring in Will's ears. Keira had stayed behind for him. She had let Jim use her as a punching bag because of him, a sacrifice that she should never have had to make—but she had, and he'd been too blind, too stupid, to see it.

Some best friend he'd turned out to be.

"Hey, boss." Ed's voice, steadily grating on the last of Will's nerves, broke into the conversation. "Sam and Lou found Keira's gun. It's not on her. They're going to inventory the rest of the guns now, just to make sure they're all accounted for."

"Okay, Eddie, thanks. Jason…" Greg started wrapping up the conversation, but Will faded out again, lost to the memories being held up for re-inspection. The hushed silence at Keira's house, the reason why they never stayed for long; the day she had come to school with bruises in "unmentionable places," supposedly from a fall during a field hockey game, that made her wince whenever she tried to sit down; all the times she'd burst into his room and announced "I hate them" without further explanation, and he'd never had to ask who she was talking about.

How had he not put the pieces together? How could he have accepted any of that as normal, chalking it up to "typical Keira"? All while she was toughing it out for him, letting her stepfather abuse her because she didn't want to lose Will's friendship.

He should have figured it out. He should have told her to run as far away as possible. He would have called her every day until they could have been together again—because as hard as it was to think of high school without Keira, it was infinitely better than knowing he had caused her so much pain.

"Hey." Someone gripped his arm and shook him, roughly; startled, Will glanced up and saw Spike watching him. "This isn't your fault," Spike said. "The only person to blame here is Jim."

"Weren't you listening?" Will demanded, gesturing towards Greg. "I'm the reason she stayed in that house. She wouldn't have had to go through half of that if it hadn't been for—"

"Weren't _you_ listening?" Spike cut him off. "Jason said she stayed because you made her sane. Because your family helped her just by being there. No, she wouldn't have had to deal with her stepfather if she'd gotten out—but that's on him, not you." When Will didn't respond, Spike tightened his hold. "Look, she's going to need you before today's over. She's going to need you to be whatever it is you've been for her all along. So don't second-guess yourself, because that's not going to make it any easier for her."

Will's instinctive reaction was to protest, but he forced himself to consider Spike's advice. The other man was right: today wasn't about him, it was about Keira. As awful as he felt, he could only imagine what Keira was going through.

"All right," Greg said, drawing their attention. Will felt the blood flow back into his arm as Spike let go. "Jason's on his way, so hopefully we can use him as a TPI."

"Are we negotiating?" Spike asked, raising his eyebrows at the mention of a third-party intermediary.

Greg shrugged. "For now, that's a figure of speech, but—"

They all heard the door to the briefing room open.

Will spun around, just in time to see Wordy do a horribly unconvincing job of pretending he hadn't been using the infrared camera. Luckily for him, it wasn't Keira who emerged—it was Diane, her shoulders shaking as she wiped frantically at her eyes, accomplishing little more than getting her hands wet. It was an awful sight, not least because of the bruise that had distorted her left cheek into a swollen mass of black and blue.

"Mrs. Richardson," Wordy began; but Diane ignored him, seemingly determined to leave as soon as possible. Will finally wrenched his gaze from her face and looked towards the briefing room. He couldn't see Keira, but the open door offered only a small glimpse inside—she might be anywhere, in God knew what state of mind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Greg detain Mrs. Richardson with a few gentle words. Murmuring something about a cup of tea, he redirected her to a side office. Wordy, now the closest person to the briefing room door, peered cautiously inside. A moment later, he withdrew and rejoined Ed, Spike, and Will. "Keira's sitting at the head of the table," he reported, keeping his voice low. "She's got her face in her hands, so I can't really see her, but it doesn't look good."

"I'll go in." Ed pushed away from the counter. "Find out what happened—"

"Yeah… that's not a good idea."

Ed looked at Spike. "Excuse me?"

"Ed, no offense, but you're probably one of the last people she wants to talk to right now. Send him in." Spike jerked his head towards Will. "She'll talk to him."

Will found himself on the receiving end of a long hard stare from Ed. "McKnight, if you go in there, you're going to have to tell us whatever she tells you."

Will stared just as evenly back. "I can't make that promise."

"Then it's out of the question."

"Ed," Spike repeated, his voice more insistent. The two of them exchanged a look that Will couldn't decipher; finally, Ed nodded and turned back to Will.

"Fine," he said sharply. "Go. But"—he stepped in closer just as Will started towards the briefing room—"you're on thin ice here, McKnight. Remember that."

Will barely heard him. He was already halfway to the door, determined to do anything he could to help Keira. As he came closer to the briefing room, he slowed down, bracing himself for whatever state she might be in. _She's going to need you before today's over,_ Spike's warning echoed in his mind. _So don't second-guess yourself, because that's not going to make it any easier for her._

Like Wordy had said, Keira was at the end of the conference table, her elbows propped on her knees as she cradled her head in her hands. Even from the door, Will could hear her inhaling and exhaling, each breath trembling with the effort it was taking her not to sob. When she finally glanced up, she froze—but then she realized it was him, and her face crumpled.

Will didn't think twice before closing the door again, cutting them off from the outside world. "The security cameras are still down," he informed her, because she was obviously struggling to maintain a stoic façade. "It's okay. They can't see you."

Keira's eyes started watering. "I'm going to have to talk to them eventually," she whispered. "And—and you—" She swallowed, desperate to keep herself under control.

Will sat down in the swivel chair beside her, scooting closer until their knees bumped together. She looked up at him, a silent plea in her eyes: the same one he had seen thousands of times, begging him to take the pain away. To make her safe.

Instead, he had to say, "Greg called Jason."

Keira's breath hitched as she stared at him in alarm, trying to gauge from his expression how much Jason might have revealed.

Will wanted to move in closer, to be there for her if she needed a shoulder to lean on—but she flinched when he did, and her voice was ragged when she asked, "What did Jason say?"

Will drew back, giving her the space she wanted. "He told us about Jim."

Something in Keira's face changed, freezing over until he barely recognized the features that were as familiar to him as his own. "_What did he say?_" she repeated.

"He said…" Will swallowed. "He said the abuse started when you were five. He said you had to watch him hurt your mother, and Jason when he tried to defend you."

"And what else did he say?"

"Was there more?" Will asked warily.

For a moment, he thought Keira was going to tell him _yes_, that there was more to the story than what Jason had described over the phone; but then she shook her head, her eyes darting to her hands, and ground out, "No, I meant—I meant, did he give any details?"

"No," Will assured her. "He didn't go into specifics." _He didn't have to._

"Oh," Keira said, her voice disappearing into itself. And then again, even softer this time: "Oh."

As if Will's promise had taken everything from her, she slumped in her chair and finally began to cry.


	35. Kids Say the Darndnest Things

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Kids Say the Darndest Things**

"I should have known McKnight would pull something like this." Ed glowered at the briefing room door, which was closed again and unlikely to open anytime soon.

Wordy sighed. "And now we're back at square one."

"Actually," Spike replied, "not quite." A few keystrokes later and the security footage from the briefing room camera appeared on his screen, showing Keira and Will sitting next to each other. "I got it back a few minutes ago," he explained, trying to ignore the guilt that raced through him when he saw Keira struggling not to cry, "but I figured it'd be better if Will didn't know."

Ed grinned, finally appeased. "Always one step ahead of everyone."

"So…" Wordy's brow furrowed. "Are we just going to listen in on their conversation? Isn't that kind of private?"

"I can cut the sound," Spike offered, glancing up at Ed. He silently hoped the team leader would agree, because he had a sinking feeling that Keira and Will's conversation was going to be something he'd rather not hear. "That way we can see if anything's going on, but—"

"Turn up the volume," Ed instructed, leaning over to get a better look.

Spike did as he was told, yet misgivings continued swirling through him. Together, the three of them watched as Keira fell apart, as she initially tried to push Will away but then surrendered into his embrace. "I'm so sorry," she choked out, her voice distorted on the computer; it didn't sound anything like her, not the Keira he knew. "I should have told you, but by the time I realized how fucked up my family was—"

"You don't owe me an explanation," Will replied. It was a textbook response; and yet Spike could tell that Will truly meant it, that he would have gone the rest of his life without asking for details if that was what he thought Keira needed. "I can't even begin to imagine what you were going through. I just wish… I wish I had been able to help you…"

Spike would have given anything not to see Keira reach out and cover Will's hand with her own. "You have no idea how much you did," she whispered.

They were quiet for a moment, heads bent together and fingers interlaced; then, Keira took a deep breath.

"There's something I want to show you," she said.

* * *

><p>"Show me?" Will echoed, his brow furrowed.<p>

Now that everything had fallen apart, it was only one more card on the table… but still Keira trembled as she stood. "Do you remember when I got pneumonia right before senior prom?"

"Yeah." Will looked up at her in confusion. "You were in the hospital for a month, and I couldn't visit you because your immune system…" Keira watched as horrified comprehension dawned. "You didn't have pneumonia."

Tears came to her eyes as she admitted, "No. I didn't." Before she could lose her nerve, she reached down and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing the hideous network of burn marks on her torso. Will's sharp intake of breath reverberated in her ears as she tossed the garment aside, leaving herself in nothing but a sports bra.

"Keira—" Will gaped at her, his eyes roaming across the white scars on her shoulders and the twisted flesh of her stomach. "Jim did that to you?"

She nodded, wishing she didn't have to remember. "I came home three hours past my curfew. He completely flew off the handle. He started following me around the living room, yelling at me, threatening to kick me out of the house, all the usual shit he got off on. And at that point I was so sick of his crap that I just started yelling back at him, telling him to go fuck himself—" She stopped just in time, having been about to complete the insult she'd hurled at her stepfather: _go fuck yourself instead of me for once, you asshole_. That was one confession she couldn't handle, not on top of everything Will had already found out.

She forced herself to count to ten, dispelling the worst of the memories. "He said I needed to be taught a lesson. I thought he was just bluffing, but then he went out to the garage and—and he brought back a gallon of gasoline. I didn't know what he was doing until… until it was on me, a-and he had a lighter—and—well, yeah. You get the point."

She was lucky: Jason had been home that weekend, one of two yearly visits from Edmonton that he made solely to check in on Keira and her mother. If he hadn't been there, if he hadn't heard her screams and come sprinting into the room, she wouldn't have survived.

"My God… Keira, I don't—I'm so sorry—"

"And now I look like this," she finished, gesturing down at her torso. It was easier to see the ruins than to meet Will's gaze. "I don't even remember the last time I wore a bikini."

"So those beach trips the summer after our senior year—"

"Yeah." Her friends had relished the chance to show off their bodies—they were all varsity athletes, stomachs flat and hard from countless hours of practice—while she had hidden herself beneath a succession of loose-fitting rash guards, each of them uglier than the next. In the grand scheme of life, what she wore to the beach wasn't important, but it was yet another thing Jim had taken from her. Yet another reason to hate him and her mother.

Will's face was ashen. "I had no idea."

"I didn't want you to know." She'd been so ashamed of her family, while Will was practically the poster child for a loving home environment. Being with the McKnights had been her escape away from it all—safe in their house, she didn't have to think of what awaited when she returned to hers. If Will had found out, if memories of Jim had been allowed to intrude upon their time together, everything would have been ruined.

And yet, keeping Will in the dark had cost her in other ways. "Will—" She broke off, swallowing, and put her shirt back on to stall for time. Then she sat down beside him, wondering how to go about delivering a long-overdue explanation.

"Take as long as you want," he said, noticing her hesitation.

It was a small thing, just one of the many ways in which Will was a far more caring person than she could ever be—yet her eyes filled with tears of gratitude all the same, because he always seemed to know exactly what she needed from him. "Will," she tried again, "in college—when we were at college, I wasn't rejecting you because I didn't want to have sex with you. I did, I—I wanted to so badly, you have no idea… Well, maybe you do," she amended when Will's mouth twitched. "But I knew that if you saw the scars, I wouldn't be able to lie to you about where they came from. And then—and then I would have to tell you everything, and I couldn't—God, I'm so sorry—"

A small part of her loathed her weakness as she broke down once again, but another part didn't care anymore when Will's arms wrapped around her shoulders. He held her through another round of tears, through the worst part afterwards when she stopped crying and started shuddering instead. Eventually they lapsed into silence, Keira taking comfort from the steady rhythm of Will's breathing. It had been so long since she had leaned on him like this, and yet it was as if she had never left his embrace.

"I guess I should probably go back out there," she finally muttered, pulling away with reluctance. The last thing she wanted to do was face her coworkers after everything that had happened, but it was a small consolation to know that Will would be at her side. "My mother didn't stick around, did she?"

"Last I saw, Greg was pulling her aside for a chat," Will admitted. He placed a calming hand on her knee as she tensed, disconcerted by the thought of seeing Diane again. "She might be gone by now."

Greg wouldn't risk them crossing paths a second time that day, would he?

"Keira." There was an edge to Will's voice, one that she rarely heard and thus always paid attention to. She glanced up at him and saw that his eyes were slits, his free hand clenched in a fist. "I know you don't need anyone to take care of you, but if Jim comes looking for your mom and gets anywhere near you—"

"Oh my God, you haven't heard."

Will blinked. "Heard what?"

* * *

><p>If Spike were Keira, or Will, he would have hunkered down in the briefing room and refused to come out until Ed was far, far away—because the team leader was glowering at the camera footage like he was already mentally filling out the forms for their probation.<p>

(It was easier for Spike to think about this than Keira's scars—which he now knew were not from a car accident, but a monster.)

At some point, Lou and Sam returned with the now-useless confirmation that all the team's guns were safely locked in the cage. "What'd we miss?" Lou asked Spike.

Spike discreetly shook his head, then tipped it in Ed's direction by way of explanation. Lou arched an eyebrow, came to the correct conclusion that Ed was pissed off, then walked around to examine the computer screen. When he saw Will and Keira, he glanced at Spike—and Spike chose to ignore the silent question in his friend's eyes. He didn't want to admit what it felt like to watch Keira with Will, when it was becoming painfully obvious that he had only ever been a distraction for her.

Maybe that wasn't fair. Spike knew that he was more to Keira than a friend she sometimes had sex with; there had been a time, after all, when they'd almost considered taking their relationship to another level. But he also knew that Keira was desperately in love with Will, and that the bonds between them ran deeper than he could ever imagine, spanning decades and forged by memories that he'd had no part in. No matter how many nights she spent in Spike's bed, Will was the one she would turn to in her darkest hours.

Just then, Winnie's switchboard lit up, distracting him from his musings. He glanced at the blinking lights and grimaced: the SRU was about to get a hot call, and Team One was in no position to answer it.

"Shit," he muttered. He'd watched Winnie in action enough to know what to do, so handling the call wouldn't be difficult; it was just a matter of diverting it somewhere else. "Ed, mind if I send it over to Team Three?" he asked, gesturing towards the lights.

Ed's gaze never left the monitor. "Yeah, tell Donna it's all hers. And get Winnie back here, they'll need her at the desk."

Spike patched the summons through to Team Three, then called Winnie and explained the situation. "Someone's going to have to watch Brian," she warned when he was done.

"Yeah, just—" He cast a quick look at the computer. Neither Keira nor Will seemed like they would be moving anytime soon. "Bring him up here. We'll find someone else to watch him." He briefly felt sorry for Brian, who was being passed around the station like a hot potato, then reasoned that the kid was probably having the time of his life.

Two minutes later, several things happened at once.

The door to the briefing room opened and Will stepped out, followed by a red-eyed Keira. At the sight of her coworkers, Keira came to a halt; Will conferred briefly with her, and she reluctantly started moving forward again. Spike noticed how her arm kept brushing against Will's, as if she were constantly reassuring herself of his presence.

Then Greg and Keira's mother appeared, the latter obviously on her way out. When Keira's eyes locked on the other woman, all the color drained from her face, replaced by a cold fury that made even Spike flinch. He realized now that he had never seen Keira truly angry, at least not like this. This was pure hatred, the fingers on her right hand twitching as if in search of a trigger.

"Keira—" the mother began, reaching out to her daughter.

"Don't." Keira recoiled even as she spat the word out, every muscle in her body tensed in preparation for combat. "Don't fucking talk to me."

In the silence that followed, everyone heard the rapid pitter-pattering of tiny feet sprinting through the lobby. "Auntie K!" Brian yelled, bolting straight for Keira.


	36. Betrayal

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Betrayal**

Keira froze when her nephew's voice met her ears, shrill and ecstatic to see her. "Auntie K!" he cried, throwing his arms open. Keira barely had time to kneel down before he crashed into her, already launching into an excited discussion of his activities with Winnie. Keira glanced up and saw the dispatcher giving her an apologetic look before hissing something to a nearby Spike; it was obvious that Winnie hadn't anticipated an audience when she returned with Brian.

"…and then we went outside, and then I saw a bird, and then a squirrel started chasing the bird and it was so funny, and _then_…"

Keira held Brian closer and forced herself to look up at her mother. Diane was gaping at Brian in astonishment, but already Keira could see the beginnings of desire forming in her eyes. Brian was her grandson, a chance at a fresh start—a child from her blood who didn't know enough to hate her yet. _Like hell am I letting you anywhere _near_ him,_ Keira thought, glowering.

Adding to her annoyance, Diane didn't even notice her expression.

"It sounds like you've been having an awesome day," Keira murmured to her nephew, scooping him into her arms as she cautiously stood. _I have to get him away from her,_ she thought, angling herself so that Brian's back was to Diane. She felt panic blossoming through her chest, wending its way through each of her ribs and seeping into the organs within: Brian had no idea that he had a second grandmother. Jason had planned on giving him an abridged version of the story when he was old enough to process it, but under no circumstances had he been willing to inform Diane while Jim was still in the picture.

As if sensing her alarm, Will shifted closer, reminding her that she wasn't alone.

"This place is so cool!" Brian cried. Then, before Keira could stop him, his neck craned around and he abruptly fell silent. "Who's that?"

Keira came to a split-second decision that she knew right away would only make things more difficult for Jason; but she didn't see any other choice, at least none that she could stomach. "She's a visitor, just like you."

Brian considered this for a moment. "What happened to your face?" he bluntly asked Diane.

Before Diane could respond, before she could say something along the lines of _I fell down the stairs_ or _I got into a car accident_ or any one of the dozens of excuses she likely had at her command, Keira quickly intervened. "Sweetie, it's not nice to say something like that," she told Brian. "And what did Daddy tell you about talking to strangers?"

"That I'm not supposed to do it," Brian mumbled. Diane was staring at Keira in horror. "Sorry, Auntie K."

Greg had been watching quietly, but now he said, "Keira, don't you think—"

"Hey," Keira began loudly, smiling at Brian as if she couldn't hear her boss, "why don't you go ask Wordy to teach you some karate in the gym? Every good police officer needs to know how to defend himself. I bet Wordy could show you moves just like the Power Rangers." She pointedly raised her eyebrows at Wordy, willing him to shut up and go along with it.

"Wordy's not the scary bald man, is he?" Brian asked, biting his lip.

"No, he's not, I promise. He's that nice man right by the desk. And you see Lou and Sam close to him?" Brian nodded. "Maybe they can help you, too. Just remember to ask nicely." She wished she could have lumped Ed into the group of Brian's would-be instructors, but she knew better than to push her luck—Wordy, Lou, and Sam were already giving her incredulous stares, visibly torn between wanting to call her out on her evasion tactics and not wanting to do it in front of Brian.

Her nephew was already wriggling out of her arms. "I'm gonna be a Power Ranger!" he shouted, running towards her coworkers. "Please, Mr. Wordy?" he asked hopefully a few seconds later.

Wordy stayed long enough for his expression to inform Keira that he wasn't happy with the maneuver; then he started shepherding Brian towards the gym, gesturing for Lou and Sam to follow. The younger men threw exasperated looks at him, Keira, and finally each other, but did as they were told.

"Ed," Greg said then, startling her. "Eddie, maybe you should—"

"Not going to happen, Greg," Ed cut him off.

_The boss is trying to give me space,_ Keira realized. She wondered momentarily if there was a reason he hadn't asked Spike to leave, before deciding that now wasn't the time to read into it. _Later,_ she thought, pushing the worry aside. First, she had to deal with her mother.

Diane was still staring at her in horror. "Jason has a son?" she asked, her lips trembling. "Why didn't he ever—"

"Send you a birth announcement?" Keira cut in, furious that her mother still didn't _get it_ after all these years. "Oh, you mean, like, 'Hey, Mom, I've got a kid now, feel free to bring your husband over so he can beat the shit out of him'? Yeah,right, as if that'd fucking happen."

She was so angry that she could barely think straight, let alone censor herself. _Does it even matter anymore?_ she wondered. _Everyone knows now, thanks to her._ "You know what the sad part is, though?" she barreled on, ignoring Will when he softly said her name. "Jason wanted to tell you. He spent fucking _weeks_ agonizing over it. But in the end, he knew that you don't do shit without Jim, and there was no way he was going to let Brian anywhere near that asshole."

"His name's Brian?" Diane inquired softly.

Keira wanted to shake her or strangle her, one of the two. "Is that the only fucking thing you processed out of all that?" she asked in disbelief. "Actually, you know what"—she shook her head—"never mind. Just leave, and don't try to come back into my life again. Or Jason's."

Diane looked at her. "Brian's my grandson," she said, a slight edge in her voice.

"And I'm your daughter, but it's not like that ever meant anything to you," Keira retorted.

"You can't keep me from seeing him," Diane insisted. "He's my grandson—"

"Fuck you," Keira spat, practically seeing red. "Don't you _dare_ try to pull the grandparents' visitation rights card on me. No judge in their right mind would ever let you see him, not once Jason and I were through telling them everything you used to do to us. So don't even bother trying, not unless you want to wind up getting charges pressed against you."

Diane wilted before her eyes. "Keira, please, I want to fix things—"

"You don't get to do that," Keira said sharply. "You don't get to come back into my life and _fix_ things. You had your chance to be a mother and you failed at it, so that's your fucking problem."

Diane was weeping now, which only pissed her off even more. God only knew what Greg and Ed were thinking—watching her reject her battered, crying mother, forgetting all the training she'd had about keeping herself calm in situations like these.

But one thing was certain: no amount of training could ever have prepared her for this. She wanted to claw out of her own skin, to scream and lash out at Diane until her fists were blood and bone. They were trapping her in here, all of them—her mother, Greg and Ed, even Spike and Will. She couldn't escape from them, not anymore, and they were going to take everything from her.

"Maybe we should take a step back and talk this through," Greg remarked, as if he were running point on a negotiation. As if it would be that simple.

"Keira, you don't have to do anything," Will murmured, ever her defender.

"Yeah, let's talk," Keira said suddenly. Her mother's eyes widened in hope, then shrank when she saw how Keira's had hardened. "Let's talk about my fifteenth birthday. Or rather, the day after my fifteenth birthday."

_The morning I woke up in Will's arms for the first time, because your husband had just raped me._

Diane stiffened. "I—I don't—"

Keira was barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. "I told you about—something about Jim, and you said I was lying. You called me a liar, and then when Jim came home you told him everything I'd said. And then—_look at me_—and then you left the room when he took off his belt."

Tears were streaming down her face when she finished, adding to the humiliation she felt every time she relived the memory of that day. Although one of the earliest lessons she'd learned as a child had been that her mother wouldn't protect her from Jim, a foolish part of her had hoped that Diane would finally wake up once she realized how far things had gone. Instead, Diane had thrown her to the wolves—make that the singular wolf—just when she'd needed her mother the most.

And Keira would never forgive her for it.

"Do you still believe him?" she asked, advancing on Diane. Her mother held her ground, but visibly quailed under Keira's gaze. "Do you still think I was lying?"

Diane's voice was so quiet that she had to move even closer to hear it. "J-Jim wouldn't… He w-would never—"

Keira felt her hand rising, but it seemed to belong to someone else—someone else who backhanded her mother across the face, making sure their knuckles landed on the worst part of her bruises. She was actually surprised to hear words coming out of her mouth, because she still wasn't quite sure what had happened. All she understood was rage.

"You're lucky I don't have my gun right now, because I swear to God I'd kill you," she snarled, practically choking on her own saliva. "You're disgusting. You—"

And then Will was in front of her, one hand on her arm and the other on her waist, preventing her from hitting Diane again. He shifted his weight so that she could barely see her mother, so that all her senses were filled with him. "It's okay," he whispered, ducking his head to whisper in her ear. "It's—"

"It's not okay!" she screamed, remembering too late that Brian might still be able to hear her from the gym. Lowering her voice, she repeated, "It's not fucking okay." Yet even as she pushed Will aside to face her mother, she continued to hold onto him, making sure he stayed close to her. "I don't ever want to see you again," she told Diane. "I wish you had died in that car accident with Jim, you piece of shit—"

"Keira." Will was there again, his hands moving to her shoulders, so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Keira, look at me." Reluctantly, she did, the knot in her stomach easing slightly when their eyes met. No matter what her parents had done to her, Will had always been there to pick up the pieces. "You got out," he reminded her now, his voice somehow soft yet firm—gentle enough to diffuse the tension in her limbs, but strong enough to keep her focused on him and only him. "She doesn't have to be a part of your life anymore. It's your call. You can just walk away right now and never see her again. I'll be with you the entire time, I promise. Let's just walk away."

She looked up at him, some of her anger already fading beneath the steadiness of his gaze. Maybe Will was right. Maybe walking away was the best course of action, when her other option was to stay here and lose what little sanity she had left. "All right," she whispered, refusing to look at Diane. "You'll stay with me?"

"Always."

And everything might have been okay, if Jason hadn't shown up at that very moment.

She heard him first, a pair of boots sprinting into the lobby and a frantic "Where are they?" tossed at Winnie. But as she stepped back from Will, ready to face her brother, the boots stopped. And all she heard then was, "Mom?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Diane start to move. For a few heartbeats, there was silence; and then Jason's footsteps joined their mother's, until Keira craned her neck just in time to see her brother envelop Diane in a hug.

Jason's eyes were already glistening.

Will gave a small hiss. That was when Keira realized she had dug her nails into his shirt, squeezing until she reached skin. She immediately drew back and apologized. Her whisper caught Jason's attention. Still embracing Diane, he glanced up and spotted her; Keira was gratified to see him flinch, and guiltily pull away. Yet when he looked back at Diane, his expression softened. "How are you?" he asked their mother.

"Come on," Will muttered, placing a detaining hand on her shoulder; Keira hadn't even noticed that she'd started towards Jason. "Let's give them some time. You want to go and check on Brian?"

Keira gritted her teeth, but eventually agreed. She'd barely seen her nephew today; she didn't doubt he was in good hands with Wordy, but she didn't want to neglect him entirely. She allowed Will to steer her away from Jason and Diane, guiding her towards the gym, and did her best not to look back.

"Auntie K!" Brian shouted when he saw her. "I'm a Power Ranger, look! Hi-YA!" His right leg shot out towards Wordy, who barely managed to get the pad positioned in time.

"That was a great kick, Bri." Feigning enthusiasm seemed to take even more out of her than the rest of the day had. "Why don't you show me some more? I'll sit down and watch you."

Brian was happy to oblige—Wordy less so, but the officer chose not to press her for information. Instead, he motioned for Lou and Sam to form a circle around Brian. Each of them was holding a pad identical to Wordy's, and they took turns calling out her nephew's name, waiting until he whirled around before telling him what kind of punch or kick they wanted him to throw. Brian was having the time of his life, and fortunately paying zero attention to Keira.

She sat beside Will on a bench, wishing she could lean against him but unwilling to do so in front of her coworkers. He kept his distance as well, limiting himself to a searching glance every once in a while. The relative peace was interrupted a few minutes later when Greg slid unobtrusively into the room, glancing around before approaching Keira.

"Boss, I'm not ready to have this conversation," she said, wanting to cry at the thought of rehashing it all now. It must have shown in her response, because she felt Will shifting beside her; and yet, mindful of their boss's presence, he didn't move closer.

"I know." Greg kept his voice down so that the others couldn't hear, but that wasn't stopping Wordy, Lou, or Sam from trying to listen in—Keira could practically see their ears pricking up. "But we're going to have a talk when you come back. I want you to take the next week off."

"What?" Keira demanded, causing Brian to look at her in alarm. Wordy swiftly distracted him with a kicking drill. "I don't need to take the week off," she insisted more quietly.

"Yes, you do." Greg's tone told her that this was non-negotiable. "You went through a lot today, and you're not going to be in any position to focus on the job. Not for a while. We'll talk when you get back."

Great. As if she didn't have enough reasons to hate her mother, now Diane had taken her job away from her—which meant that she would have nothing to distract her from the inevitable surge of memories.

"Oh, and Will?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Stick around after the end of the shift, okay?"

Will's eyes narrowed slightly as he agreed. Greg smiled at him, then got up and headed back to the lobby. Keira waited until he was out of earshot before muttering, "What was that about?"

"Not sure." Yet he wasn't holding her gaze, and something was off in his voice—so he did know, or at least he had an idea.

_You're such a shitty liar,_ she thought, but without any malice. It was one of the qualities she liked best about him, and probably why he was a better person than she ever would be. If he didn't want to tell her the truth now, she wouldn't press him—odds were his impending chat with Greg had something to do with her, and he was just trying to keep her from worrying.

Jason spent nearly an hour talking to Diane. Unsurprisingly, Brian tired long before that point; but Will dug up a few coins and started teaching him how to make them vanish into thin air, then reappear behind someone else's ear. Brian couldn't get enough of the simple magic trick, and he insisted on practicing on everyone in the gym. When he "found" a quarter in Keira's ear and shrieked with delight, glancing back at Will for approval, Keira wondered what on Earth she had done to deserve the two of them in her life.

She was discreetly wiping at her eyes when Jason appeared in the gym. Her brother's expression was grim, and his shoulders tensed when he saw her—meaning that whatever he had to say, she wasn't going to like it.

"Daddy!" Brian shouted, racing over to him. Keira hung back as her nephew proudly showed off the magic trick, then gave a lengthy description of all the punches and kicks "Mr. Wordy" had taught him. While he talked, Wordy, Lou, and Sam slipped out of the gym, until the only person remaining was Will.

"Brian, buddy, I need to talk to Keira for a minute," Jason finally said, extricating himself from his son's grasp. "And then we're going to go home, okay?"

"But Will said we were going to do more magic tricks!"

"You still have time to do a few. Why don't you go with him?" Jason glanced at Will in a wordless request. Will nodded and ushered Brian away, leaving the two siblings in a room that seemed to become unbearably thick with tension.

Jason was the first to break the silence. "How are you holding up?" he asked, moving further into the gym.

"Not too great." Keira managed to swallow the lump in her throat, but she wasn't able to hide the bitterness in her voice as she added, "Looks like you're doing fine."

Jason sighed. "Keira—"

"She wants to be a part of Brian's life now, did she tell you that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she did." Jason shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room before settling on her again. "Keira… She's going to be staying with us for a little while."

She was on her feet before he had even finished the sentence, her fists curled and her ears roaring with blood. Just in time, she remembered to keep her voice low so that the others in the lobby couldn't hear. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"She doesn't have anywhere to go—"

"And we're supposed to give a shit? Jim's dead, I bet she has plenty of life insurance—"

"It all went to his parents. He left her with nothing." Jason scowled, his brown eyes darker than usual. "Almost thirty years she stayed with that asshole, and he left her with nothing."

"So?" Keira snapped. "That's her problem, not yours. She can go homeless for all I care."

"You don't mean that."

Another time, maybe, when Keira hadn't just been forced to relive some of the worst memories of her life, the disappointment in Jason's gaze might have subdued her. Now she lashed out at him. "She didn't do a fucking thing when Jim beat us up, and then she told you she would testify against us if you ever tried to take him to court. Remember that? Or did you already forget?"

"I didn't forget," Jason insisted. "But she was terrified of him. She didn't think she had a choice."

Keira's response was barely above a whisper. "So she didn't have a choice when she let Jim rape me?"

"That's not what I'm saying—"

"Really? Cause that's what it sounds like you're saying." She didn't bother trying to hide the tears that had resurfaced, spilling over the salty trails left behind by their predecessors. "And now you want to bring her back into our lives like nothing happened? You want Brian to grow up with someone like _her_ as his grandmother?"

Jason tried to move closer to her, but she flinched and put more distance between them. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, answering, "I know you only remember her for what she did to us, but she was a different person before Jim. And now that he's gone… I want to help her. I want her to have another chance. So I'm going to help her find a job—you know she hasn't even had one since you were born?—and then she'll be able to afford her own place."

Keira stared at him in disbelief. She and Jason had never seen eye-to-eye about Diane, it was true; she had known for a while now that he didn't hate their mother as much as she did, that he even missed her for some inexplicable reason. But now he was talking about welcoming her with open arms, sheltering her for… how long? Weeks? Months? Keira couldn't imagine employers tripping over themselves to hire Diane.

So where did that leave her?

"Fine," she said hoarsely, stiffening her resolve. "It's your house. It's none of my business who your guests are. And you know what, she can have my room. Because I'm moving out."

Jason looked like he'd been slapped in the face. "You don't have to do that—"

"Yes, I do." It was getting harder to speak; the words were sticking in her throat, glued together by unshed tears. "I'm never living with that woman again. I'm done with her. I'm so fucking done with her after what she did to me. You have no idea what it was like—you got to leave and go to college, and for eight fucking years I was alone with him. I just—I can't—" More tears slid down her cheeks, ignoring her attempts to wipe them away. "I'm sorry, Jason. Until she's gone, I'm not coming back."

"Keira—"

Keira stalked out of the gym, biting the insides of her cheeks until she tasted blood. The first person she saw in the lobby was Diane, who called out to her; Keira brushed by without a word, bracing herself for the walk past her coworkers. They were clustered around the front desk, all of them: Greg and Ed, Lou and Spike, Sam, Wordy, and Will. And all of them were watching her, suffocating her with their gazes—even Wordy, who was theoretically distracting Brian with a hand game. She needed them to go away, to give her one goddamn moment to herself, to stop scrutinizing her like she was going to come apart at any second—

And then Will stepped forward. _Please don't say anything,_ she silently begged him, because if he did she would start bawling like a child and she couldn't do that, not here, not in front of all her coworkers, and—

"Are you okay?" he asked, in the voice that was just for her, the one that meant she was safe, and it was too much and he could tell and he was already moving to block her from the others' view. She tried to speak, but she couldn't. They were all watching her and they would see everything, and—

At first, Will spoke so softly that she didn't even hear him. "Don't look at them," he said, having to repeat himself when she stared blankly at him. "Don't look at them. What happened?"

When she finally managed to respond, she cringed: her voice, trembling and uneven, was undoubtedly carrying over to her coworkers. "J-Jason invited her to stay with us. I have to go home, I have to—I have to move out, I can't—I can't be there with her—"

Before she could break down completely, she pulled away from him and left the lobby. "Keira!" she heard, followed by Will's pursuing footsteps, but she kept going—away from Jason and her mother, away from the rest of the team, away from the memories that tore at her until breathing became an impossibility.

Once upon a time, she had been stupid enough to think that she'd escaped her past. Now she knew better. All she had done was shove it into a dark corner where it would wait, and thrive, until it could sink its claws into her again and never let her go.

* * *

><p>In the silence that followed Keira and Will's departure, Lou said to no one in particular, "How long do you think it'll take him to volunteer his apartment?"<p>

"I'd give it a minute," Sam guessed.


	37. Priorities

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Priorities**

If Keira had harbored any hopes of Will relenting once she entered the women's locker room, she was sorely mistaken. Less than a second after the door closed behind her, it barged open again, making a thumping sound as it swung into the opposite wall.

"Where are you going to go?" he asked when she turned around to face him.

Although the question caught her by surprise, she was relieved: the practicality of it allowed her to distance herself from her emotions, to concentrate only on her plans for the immediate future.

"I don't know," she admitted, swallowing. "A hotel, or something. I'll figure it out." A hotel would be expensive—but she would gladly shell out the money if it meant avoiding Diane. She didn't need anything fancy, either, just a place to sleep in between work shifts.

Will hesitated, then said, "You could stay with me. At my place. As long as you need to."

Keira's breath caught in her throat, and instinctively she opened her mouth to say yes—but then she stopped, remembering one crucial detail. "What about Cassie?"

Will's eyes dropped to the floor when he admitted, "We broke up."

"You—you did? When?" Keira momentarily forgot about her own troubles as she gaped at him, less surprised by the end of the relationship (now that she thought about it, he hadn't mentioned Cassie in a while) than she was by the fact that he'd never told her.

"A few weeks ago." Will sighed, reluctantly looking up again. "I didn't say anything because… I don't know. It just never seemed the right time to bring it up."

A few weeks ago, she had been dealing with the fallout of talking Alice down from the roof—of her teammates discovering that she had been drugged and raped ten years ago, the same night she'd disappeared from Will's life. "It's okay," she murmured. The shrug that accompanied her words made her wince at its clumsiness. "You didn't have to tell me anything. It's not—it's not my business."

Their eyes met, and in that moment she knew they were both fooling themselves, that he wanted it to be her business just as much as she did.

"I have a couch," Will finally said, making her wonder when they had moved so close to each other. "It's not much, but—"

"Wouldn't be the first time I've slept on your couch," she reminded him.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Yeah, I know."

She enveloped him in a tight hug, taking him by surprise; it was a few seconds before he recovered and returned the embrace, his palms warm against her shoulder blades. "Thank you so much," she whispered, and she wasn't just talking about his offer—she was talking about everything he had done for her over the years, a mountain of debt she could never hope to repay.

A knock on the door startled them, and they drew apart. "It's me," Spike called as Keira wiped uselessly at her eyes. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Keira managed. She took an extra step away from Will for good measure—not that she thought Spike would comment, but there was no reason to make things even more awkward.

Evidently coming to the same conclusion, Will headed for the door just as Spike opened it. "I'll be outside," he told her; and then he was gone, leaving her and Spike alone to start navigating the wrench her resurrected past had thrown into their relationship.

"Brian—" she began, wanting to delay the moment for as long as possible.

"He's back with Jason."

Keira grimaced: Jason could be introducing Brian to Diane at this very instant, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Look, Keira…" Spike's voice softened, making it difficult for her to hold his gaze. "You probably don't want to talk about any of this right now, and I'm not going to ask you to. But when you're ready…"

"Yeah." Keira had to try twice before any sound came out. "I know."

The corners of his eyelids crinkled when he smiled at her—but unlike Will, who could get as close to her as he wanted without breaching any boundaries, Spike was purposefully maintaining a physical distance between them. "Lou and I are going to the airport right after work," he said, "so I won't have phone access for a while." Keira blinked in confusion, then realized that she'd completely forgotten about their trip to Jamaica. "But if you need anything, there's internet at the hotel, so you can send me—"

"No, Spike, don't." Keira shook her head. "Just enjoy your vacation. You're there to spend time with Lou, not check your email in case I need something. You guys have been planning this for ages. I'll be fine." She tried to ignore the irony of telling him this with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks; judging by his arched brows, the ruse wasn't working. "Seriously, don't worry about me. Go have fun."

Spike studied her for a moment, his warm brown eyes taking in every inch of her face. "You'll have Will," he finally replied.

"Yeah." She gave a small smile. "I'll have Will."

"Maybe we can talk when I get back?"

Keira didn't know if she would be ready by then, but she nodded anyway. Every moment of her time with Spike had been shaped by the lies she'd told to keep her secrets at bay, the lies she'd continued telling even when it strained their friendship. He had called her out on it, but he hadn't stopped caring for her—the least she could do in return was sit down with him to figure things out.

"Yeah, we can do that," she agreed.

* * *

><p>The door to the locker room opened, shaking Will from his thoughts—which were cycling between old memories of Keira and inane worries about whether his apartment was in any shape to receive a visitor. He glanced up and saw Spike emerge into the hallway, shutting the door softly behind him.<p>

Their eyes locked. "Take care of her," was all the other man said. It was a direct echo of something Will had murmured months ago, when their positions had been exchanged; that moment now felt like it had happened in another lifetime, with completely different people.

And Will knew that it didn't matter anymore. His petty problems with Spike were nothing in comparison to what Keira was going through; it was time for them to set aside their differences and focus on helping her, the woman they'd broken all the rules for. "I will," he said, though it was an unnecessary promise. He would always be there for her.

No further words were exchanged between them. Spike walked away, and he didn't look back; then, just as Will was preparing to check in on Keira, Greg appeared at his side.

"Now's a good time as any to have that chat," the sergeant said, in a friendly tone that Will knew better than to refuse.

Greg led him to a side office—"I let Jason and Ms. Richardson have the conference room"—and then surveyed him for a moment before saying, "We're going to be short-handed next week, since Keira's not coming in and Spike and Lou'll be in Jamaica. Depending on what kind of calls we get, Donna and the rest of Team Three might tag along with us for a few days."

Will knew this wasn't what Parker really wanted to talk to him about. "Makes sense," he replied, waiting.

"I take it Keira's going to be staying with you until things settle down."

And there it was. "Yes, sir."

Greg was quiet for such a long time that Will, in spite of his resolve not to appear shame-faced or guilty about what he was doing for his best friend, found himself shifting uncomfortably. It was almost a relief when the sergeant finally spoke again. "Will, I'm going to give you some homework."

"Homework?" Will echoed. He'd expected an interrogation, a warning, or both—not an assignment.

"Yes." Greg smiled, aware of his confusion. "I want you to spend the next few weeks thinking about what you want in life."

Will blinked at him, thrown off by the philosophical turn the conversation had taken. "Uh… Sir?"

"It's time to re-evaluate your priorities," Greg said gently.

That was when Will understood.

He was being asked to choose between Keira and his job.


	38. Exile

**A/N:** To make up for last week's wicked short chapter, here's a (very) long chapter! Also, Canadian readers (do I have any?), feel free to correct me if Wikipedia told me lies about Toronto-area geography.

**Response to anonymous reviewer "RP911":** Oh, wow, I didn't realize I had crossover fans here! That's awesome. I am definitely planning on updating "The Lady's War and the Gentleman's Engagement" soon(ish). I'm about to finish a final companion piece to Breathe that I'll be uploading once I've posted the last chapter here, and then I can start working on Gúthwyn's story. I maaay decide to go for broke and catch back up to my usual ten-chapter gap (I let it slide down to seven or eight because I felt bad for not updating), but that depends on how fast I go. So, tl;dr I'll be back to writing "The Lady's War and the Gentleman's Engagement" within the week, and then hopefully soon after I'll be back to posting! Many apologies for the ridiculously long wait.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Eight: Exile<strong>

Keira broke every speed limit on her way home, driving so recklessly that only sheer luck kept her from being pulled over. By the time she slammed the brakes in Jason's driveway, she had carved out a significant lead in front of him and their mother—enough time for her to pack her belongings and get the hell out.

Once she was in her room, she grabbed the nearest duffle bag and started shoveling necessities in: enough shirts for a week, a couple pairs of pants, nightclothes, toiletries. As she worked, her anger grew until her muscles trembled and her face became hot. She was throwing things towards the end, unsatisfied even when her shampoo bottle struck the back of the bag and knocked it onto the floor. When she was done, she stood there, panting, and took stock of her surroundings. Everything she owned was in this room, and in a few minutes her mother would have access to all of it.

Which meant that she needed boxes.

She went downstairs, raided the garage, and returned with a container in each hand. She then set about systematically gouging her room of its contents. In one box, she put the "important" things: tax returns, bank statements, her passport, her laptop, and all the slips of paper she'd written various passwords on. She also threw in all the certificates from the professional courses she'd taken over the years, which were important in the sense that they would tell her mother what she'd been doing with her life—and Keira very much intended to keep her in the dark on that matter.

The second box received personal belongings: every photograph she could find, especially the ones of her and Brian (_like hell is that bitch getting her hand on those,_ she thought viciously); everything that Brian had ever made for her, from squiggly rainbow drawings to a curious conglomeration of Popsicle sticks that she'd never been able to figure out; and then, in a separate bag, all the lingerie that she could find in both her dresser and her laundry basket.

When both of the boxes were full, she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. Her room looked significantly emptier than it had when she'd started. Though she hadn't had much to begin with, by now it was practically Spartan. There was only one thing left for her to do.

Opening her closet, she stood on her tiptoes and nudged a large box with dented corners out from the top shelf. It fell into her arms, making her grunt on impact; she'd forgotten how heavy it was. With a muffled curse, she staggered out of the closet and deposited the box next to the others. Even though Jason and her mother were going to arrive at any second, she couldn't resist taking a peek at the contents.

She didn't allow herself to look at anything other than what was on top; she knew that if she started sifting through the rest of the items, she'd easily lose an hour to the rush of memories that would follow. Instead she gazed at the folded-up sweatshirt she'd worn hundreds of times in high school, but not once during the past ten years. Her fingers lingered on the white laces, slightly yellowed from age, then traced over the surname embroidered on the sleeve.

She bent over, reflexively, to smell the fabric—but Will's scent had faded years ago from everything he'd given her, even his prized hockey sweatshirt. She reluctantly closed the box and stood up, just as she heard the front door open.

"Keira?" Jason called.

_Shit._

"Auntie K!" Brian's near-hysterical voice grew louder as he ran up the stairs. "Auntie K!" He skidded to a halt in the doorway, then saw the boxes at Keira's feet and burst into tears.

"Oh, sweetie…" Keira hurried over and scooped him up in her arms, feeling distinctly like a candidate for the shittiest aunt of the year award. At the very least, she was a grade-A asshole. "I'll be back before you know it."

"I don't want you to leave," Brian sobbed, clutching at her neck. "Why can't you stay?"

Keira forced herself to keep her voice steady. "Because your grandmother needs a place to sleep," she explained. "So I'm going to be with Will for a while. You remember Will, right?"

Brian sniffled. "He knows all the Disney movies."

"That's right, he does. And I'm going to be at his apartment, but I'll call you every night and you can tell me about how your day went. How does that sound?"

"But what if I make a Lego house and I want to _show_ you?" Brian wailed.

"Then maybe you can save it for me so I can see it when I come home." Keira gently rubbed his back while she spoke, trying to calm him down. "Or you can ask your father to take a picture with his phone, so I can see it right away."

"Please stay," Brian begged her.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I can't." She heard Jason's footsteps reach the door and glanced up, still holding Brian close. Her brother was leaning against the frame, examining the boxes she'd packed with soft frown. Their eyes only met for a brief instant before she turned away, overwhelmed with guilt. "I'm going to have to put you down now, okay?" she whispered to Brian. "I have to take care of these boxes."

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down Brian's cheeks, but there was only minimal clinging when she carefully lowered him to the ground.

She had been avoiding her brother's gaze, but a few seconds later he asked, "What's all this for?"

"So _she_ can't go through my stuff." Keira hefted up one of the boxes and shot Jason a challenging look, as if daring him to accuse her of being childish, but he didn't take the bait. "Where is she, anyway?"

Jason stepped into the room and bent to pick up the remaining boxes. "I told her to wait in the kitchen."

"Daddy…" Brian's lips started trembling.

"Your aunt's going to be back soon," Jason promised him as Keira surreptitiously used her shoulder to wipe at her eyes.

"But, _Daddy_…"

It took five minutes to calm Brian down enough for them to be able to start moving Keira's things into her car, which was five minutes more than she had ever intended on being in the same house as her mother again. As they headed downstairs, she forced herself to keep her head turned away from the kitchen. Diane's presence was a tangible menace in the air, the mere knowledge of it enough to make her blood boil.

"Keira…" The quiet whisper reached her ears when she was almost at the front door. Every muscle in Keira's body froze, torn between flight and fight—the urge to run and the urge to kill. She hated that voice, hated everything it represented; she wanted to choke her mother until she couldn't hear it anymore, until there was only silence.

"Keira."

The voice was Jason's this time, and it was laced with apprehension. Keira looked over her shoulder and saw that he was waiting for her to open the door, which he couldn't do with two boxes in hand. Next to him, Brian stared up at her with watery eyes.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Keira moved forward and twisted the doorknob. Jason and Brian followed her outside, neither of them speaking. It took only a moment to load her possessions into the car, Brian more of a hindrance than a help. When they were done, Jason closed the trunk and looked at her. "I'm sorry this had to happen," he said quietly.

The urge to make a nasty retort died when she saw the anguish in his eyes. She knew Jason was genuinely torn between her and their mother, that it bothered him to have pushed her—even unintentionally—out of his house. He wasn't doing this to spite her, or to hurt her; he was doing this because, for some reason that was completely beyond her, he thought their mother was worth saving.

"It's not your fault," she muttered.

Jason looked like he wanted to say something, but the right words were hovering just out of reach. "I'll be in touch," he finally told her. "I want to see you at some point this week, so we can talk about…" He glanced at Brian, and Keira understood what he meant: visitation.

"Yeah." She forced a smile on her face. "That's fine, I have a lot of free time on my hands now."

"I'm sorry—"

"Not your fault," Keira cut him off. She didn't want to think about work anymore, or she'd storm right back into their house and take it all out on their mother. "I should be going—"

Her words were drowned out by the loudest fit Brian had thrown in recent memory.

* * *

><p>After a quick scramble to make sure his apartment looked presentable—which included killing two spiders and removing the last few photographs from his relationship with Cassie—Will sat down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.<p>

It had been a day longer than he'd thought possible, longer than even that terrible call when he'd found out the truth behind Keira's disappearance from his life. Because while he should have realized something had happened to her that night, there was no way he could have known what it was; and yet for years he had obliviously borne witness to the aftermath of Jim's worst attacks against Keira, never once guessing what had caused the bruises and the tears.

_How much of an idiot do you have to be not to figure that one out?_

It was the question he asked himself over and over again, not once coming up with a satisfactory answer. All those times he'd snuck her into his house at night so she could fall apart in his arms, even after the morning his parents had caught them sleeping together…

His parents.

Will stiffened, feeling as though a wave of cold water had just swept through his insides. Had his mother and father figured out the truth about Keira's family? His teenage self had naively accepted all the lies about her bruises, the established consensus that they were never to go over the Fords' house; but his parents had been adults, with eyes sharp enough to read between the lines. And they had practically adopted Keira into the family, always happy to set out an extra plate for her at the dinner table, never once complaining about how much time Will was spending with her…

Soon, he was going to have to make that call to his parents. But not now, not when everything was still raw and potent, when his childhood memories were being torn apart and even that was nothing in comparison to what Keira was going through. He needed time to process it all, to figure out the best way to help her—because the only thing he knew for certain was that she wouldn't want to talk about any of it tonight.

He stood up and headed towards the kitchen. When in doubt, there was one thing he could give Keira—the one thing she had gone far too many years without.

A home.

* * *

><p>Will was renting an apartment in Etobicoke, which was almost a straight shot down the Gardiner Expressway. It took Keira less than twenty minutes to reach the complex, even when she made a wrong turn and had to backtrack. She pulled into the visitors' section of the parking lot and double-checked to make sure she had the right address. Then she got out of the car and stretched, examining her surroundings.<p>

Etobicoke had a somewhat uneven reputation, but this particular neighborhood looked fairly safe. The apartment building itself was unremarkable: a square-shaped brick structure about five stories high, with fire escapes climbing down the sides and a few pockets of light coming from the occupied rooms. Keira surveyed the parking lot until she found Will's car; only then did she take out her duffel bag and head up the walkway.

Though every step brought her closer to Will, her mind lingered on the home she had left behind—once a safe haven, now ruined by her mother's presence. She wondered if Diane had started insinuating herself into Brian's good graces, if even now her nephew was in his grandmother's embrace without the slightest idea that those same arms had once refused to protect Keira and Jason.

_Don't think about that,_ she chastised herself. _All that's going to get you now is obscenely high blood pressure._

She jabbed at the buzzer, wincing as she bent her thumb backwards. It was a relief when Will's voice came out of the speaker.

"It's me," she said.

A moment later, she was in front of his door. She took a deep breath and knocked, instinctively smoothing out her hair while she waited. This was the first time she had been to Will's new place, and she realized that, until now, she had only been imagining his old bedroom. Obviously his apartment would be different—and she was unable to repress a grimace as she wondered how many nights Cassie had been here before her.

When the door opened, however, all thoughts of Cassie flew from her head. Will in civilian clothes was, if possible, even more attractive than Will in uniform, and she found herself smiling for what felt like the first time since her mother had shown up at the SRU. "Hey," she said softly.

Will stepped aside to let her in. "How are you holding up?"

"Trying not to think about it," she replied, looking around. The entranceway was small, with just enough space to hang a few coats and umbrellas; but the living room beyond was spacious, with a large television and a gently-used couch. She bit back a smile as she imagined Will sitting there and watching the Canucks, filling the apartment with alternating cheers and anguished cries.

Will led her out of the entranceway, enabling her to see a brightly-lit kitchen and a modest dining area. Beyond, a short hall led to his bedroom. Keira's eyes roamed over the walls, bare except for a few pictures his father—a professional photographer—must have taken: the Vancouver skyline, Will in a cap and gown beside his mother, two children crouching in a sandbox with their heads bent together.

"That's us," she said in surprise, recognizing the wild mess of curls that her hair had once been. Her younger self was pointing at a pile of sand, which Will—God, how old were they? Three? Four?—was busily shaping into a castle.

"Yeah, it's a good picture." A grin tugged at Will's lips. "I bet you were bossing me around, as usual."

She elbowed him. "Funny how I never heard any complaints."

Will chose not to respond to that. "Come on," he told her instead, motioning for her to follow. "You can have my room."

"Wait a second." Keira stopped in her tracks, forcing Will to do the same. "I'm not taking your bed. I'll be fine on the couch."

When he saw that she was bracing for an argument, he conceded—but only a little. "Just for tonight, then."

Sometimes, it was better to let Will have his chivalrous moments. Besides, she had to admit that a mattress sounded nice after one of the longest days in her recent memory. "Okay," she agreed, before sending him a warning look. "But tomorrow we're switching back."

Will nodded, but she had a feeling that she would have to take a firmer stance later on. For now, however, she let it go, allowing him to show her to his room. "And the bathroom's that door over there," he said, gesturing, once she'd put her duffel bag down.

Keira gave a general murmur of acknowledgment, but she was more interested in examining Will's room. It was scrupulously neat—a stark contrast to the piles of clothes perpetually strewn across her floor, rising and falling in tandem with her laundry cycles. Even when they were children, Will had always been the organized one. Her eyes flicked over a navy blue comforter, a book on the nightstand that he'd probably been reading for months, the hockey stick and skates propped up in a corner.

"I don't know if you're hungry," Will began after a moment, "but I started making dinner earlier."

"Oh—" And no sooner had he said it than she realized she was hungry; starving, in fact, not having eaten for close to eight hours. She couldn't even remember what she'd had for lunch. "That sounds great," she replied. "Thank you."

His eyes sparkled when he smiled, almost enough to make the afternoon's events seem like a distant memory. "If you want, you can take a shower or settle in while I finish—it'll be another half an hour. There's towels in the bathroom and all that."

Normally Keira might have teased him, saying something along the lines of _Good to know there's towels in the bathroom,_ but the words never came. Instead, she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Will had opened up his home to her without a second thought, had given her his own bed, and was now ready to make dinner for her while she rested. It wasn't because he was whipped—she would do the same for him in a heartbeat, if their situations were reversed—but because there was no one else like him, no one else who cared for her the way he did. And she had no idea what she'd ever done to deserve his friendship.

When Will was gone, she stepped into the bathroom and shed her clothes, keeping her eyes averted from the mirror. But she couldn't avoid looking at her own body, and the scars on her torso reminded her all too well of the secrets she'd spent her entire life trying to hide—the ones that her mother had exposed to her coworkers, ruining everything in a single instant.

The water was too hot, but Keira gritted her teeth and slipped under the punishing current anyway. She felt the water burning down her skin, mimicking the blood that pumped furiously through her veins whenever she thought of her mother. Unable to bear it any longer, she twisted the knob until fire turned to ice. Then her teeth were chattering, bones grinding in frigid protest.

It was too much. Her mind was reeling, torn between rage and grief; and until one of them triumphed over the other, she was a prisoner of her own emotions. She waited for tears, screams, any form of release—but nothing came, nothing, and it was all trapped inside of her and she didn't know how to get it out.

Her mother was back. The team knew everything. _Will_ knew everything. Jason had betrayed her. Brian was in danger—if not now, then when Diane moved on to her next abusive relationship. And she was powerless to stop any of it from happening. It had all blown up in her face, one carefully-hoarded secret after another, leaving her stripped and exposed for the world to see.

Napping on a bed of nails would have been more refreshing than that shower. When she stepped out, the mirror thrust a startling image back at her: a red-faced woman with bloodshot eyes, stiff shoulders, and an expression that would have cut through a lesser opponent. Her gaze dropped to the mottled skin of her torso, the flesh that rippled and twisted in unnatural ways; and suddenly she wondered how Spike could bear it, how he could have sex with her and not feel repulsed by the monster she had become.

_You're not a monster,_ she told herself without conviction.

It was the music that pulled her from her thoughts. Gradually she became aware that Will had turned on the stereo, the strains of a country song filtering through the bathroom door as he chopped and sliced away at the cutting board. In spite of herself, she smiled when she heard him mimicking a guitar solo—the closest he ever got to singing. No matter how chaotic her life was, some things could be counted on to stay the same.

She dried off and changed into her customary sleepwear: a long-sleeved shirt and shorts, though she had been careful to select a more modest version of what she'd worn when Will had stayed at her house. Then she followed the music and wandered into the kitchen, where Will had begun setting the table.

"Can I help?" she asked, watching him work.

He glanced up at her and frowned slightly. "Are you okay?"

Keira felt her throat tighten. Somehow, Will, Jason, and Spike all had that effect on her: whenever she was upset, and one of them noticed and made an inquiry, it became that much harder to suppress her emotions. She swallowed, wincing at the burning sensation that made speaking suddenly difficult. "I'm fine. Can I help?"

He must have known she was lying, but for now he let her maintain the façade without comment. "I think we're all set," he answered, placing the last of the utensils on the table. "Just grab a drink and—oh, yeah, I should show you around the kitchen."

She obligingly accepted the impromptu tour, but she was less interested in the location of the plates and glasses than she was in listening to him speak. The familiar lilt of his voice eased away some of the tension, reducing the throbbing in her temples to a tolerable ache. God, she was so tired.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked when they sat down.

Keira nodded, biting the insides of her cheeks so she didn't say something she might regret. She didn't have the energy to talk about what had happened anymore; instead, she served herself some pasta—a dish she recognized from countless dinners at the McKnight house—and passed the bowl to Will. "This looks amazing," she said, finally unsticking her throat.

Grinning, Will heaped some onto his own plate. "Didn't you used to call it 'spaghetti crack'?"

"Crack spaghetti, yeah," she replied softly. The smell was transporting her back to the McKnights' kitchen, where she and Will had spent countless hours finishing their homework while Mr. McKnight prepared dinner and—sometimes—let them sample everything beforehand. Those nights were long past, and she could barely recall the specifics anymore; all she remembered was feeling happy. Like she belonged.

She wondered if Will had remembered, too, when he picked the recipe for tonight.

"Will, this is—"

She wasn't sure what she'd meant to say. _Amazing_, _really nice of you_, _too much_; none of it seemed right, and in the end it didn't matter. Because when he glanced up at her, the words snagged in her throat and her eyes welled up instead, a prelude to the breakdown that hadn't come in the shower. Whether it was the memories that the food had stirred within her, or the knowledge that it was finally safe to let her guard down, she found herself almost choking on the spaghetti as she struggled to clear her airway.

"Keira?" Will yanked his chair closer to hers, ready to be there for her if she needed him. And right now she did, just as she had in those long years when Jason was gone. Just as she had during the months after that horrible dorm party, though she'd been too ashamed to admit it. Just as she always would, in one way or another, because he was Will and she couldn't imagine ever going back to a life without him.

"I-I'm sorry," she gasped, trying and failing to pull herself back under control. "I don't—I can't—"

Will didn't need an explanation; then again, he never did. He simply reached out, then said nothing when she squeezed all her frustration and hurt into his waiting hand.

* * *

><p>Around midnight, Will awoke to the sound of shattering glass.<p>

Disoriented by his unfamiliar surroundings, it took him a moment to realize that he was on the couch in his living room. Keira was in his bed, though she'd insisted it was only for this one night. He blinked, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness; then he saw a shadow moving in the kitchen. "Keira?"

There was a muffled gasp, then a hiss of pain. "I'm so sorry, I didn't meant to wake you—no, go back to sleep, I'm fine—"

But he'd already thrown back the covers and turned on the light. "Are you okay? Did something break?"

Keira was crouched on the kitchen floor, rubbing at her head and sweeping the tiles with a paper towel. "Yeah, I'm sorry—I just dropped a glass. It's fine, most of the pieces were pretty big and I'm getting the rest of them now—I probably should have just stayed in bed, I'm sorry—"

He noticed that her hands were twitching as she scooped the glittering shards into her palms. "You okay?" he repeated.

"Um… Yeah." Not looking at him, she carefully deposited the glass remnants into the trash. "Just some stupid nightmare. About Jim."

While her tone was dismissive, her jumpiness told another story—one that reminded him of all the nights she'd shown up at his house, pale-faced and shivering. "Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head, then winced at the abrupt motion.

"What happened?" he asked, tapping his own temple to reference hers.

"Knocked my head against the cabinet. I'm fine."

Will hesitated, wondering how best to navigate Keira's current mood. Finally he said, "I'm having trouble falling asleep, too. I was thinking I'd turn on the TV. Want to watch a movie or something?"

It was a lie, of course—he'd been sleeping soundly until she'd woken him up. But she looked like she could use the distraction, and he didn't want her to feel guilty about it.

Keira finished cleaning and stood up, her arms automatically folding across her chest. She was only a few inches shorter than Will, but suddenly she seemed a lot smaller. She swallowed before replying. "Yeah, that'd be good. Um… on the couch?"

There was room for awkwardness here, because Will had already unfolded the sofa bed—and the last mattress they'd shared together had been the one in his single dorm, so crowded that Keira had always wound up sprawled on top of him by the morning. "We can put it back together," he offered as her eyes scanned the sheets.

"It's fine. I don't mind."

He let her situate herself while he spent an unnecessarily long time searching for the remote, turning on the television, finding a movie channel. When he turned around, Keira was already curled up under the covers, her face even whiter in the glow of the screen. "That's Audrey Hepburn, isn't it?"

"Uh… yeah," Will answered. He'd never been one for black and white films, but since she'd expressed a modicum of interest he decided to leave it on.

"Huh." Keira gathered the blankets more tightly around herself. He could see her shuddering beneath the sheets, still unable to shake off the remnants of her nightmare. "Never seen anything with her." But she wasn't looking at the screen; she was looking at him, silently observing as he came over to the couch. In the moment of indecision as he wondered whether to join her under the covers or sit on top of them, she unwrapped one of the blankets and extended it towards him in an unspoken invitation.

_Probably not the smartest idea,_ a nagging voice warned him as he slipped in beside her. _The boss just gave you an ultimatum over her._ But those thoughts vanished when Keira scooted closer and leaned against him, just like she had when they were growing up, and he couldn't deny her such a simple comfort.

She was trembling against him, enough that he could feel the vibrations in his own body; but he didn't comment, knowing from experience that the tremors would simply have to run their course. Instead, he put an arm around her, adjusted the blankets so that they were tighter around her small frame, and settled in to watch the movie.

Neither of them spoke, and before long Keira's breathing began to even out. Then she was still, her muscles finally relaxing, and Will didn't have to glance over to know that she was asleep. He looked anyway, and found himself smoothing her hair away from her face. A few seconds later, he realized what he was doing and pulled back. Not only was he making things more complicated for himself, but Keira sure as hell didn't need anything else to worry about.

All the same, the thought of his impending conversation with Greg weighed heavily on his mind. He didn't know how to choose between the SRU, his dream career, and Keira, the woman he loved who was in a relationship with someone else. If he resigned from Team One, she would still be with Spike—and, more importantly, he would barely ever see her. Yet the SRU had a priority of life code for a reason, and his feelings for Keira (there was no point denying it anymore) were a very real threat to others' safety.

_Don't worry about that now,_ he thought, his tiredness getting the better of him. _You still have two weeks to figure it out._

But as he drifted off to sleep, Keira in his arms and Audrey Hepburn murmuring indistinctly in the background, he knew he would have to make his decision sooner rather than later.


	39. Domesticity

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Friday Night Patrol**

"Good night for patrol," Donna said, grinning, as she turned the SUV around and set them back on course to SRU headquarters.

Will agreed. "I love it when people behave. Especially on a Friday night."

He and Donna been patrolling the West End for hours, and in all that time they'd seen nothing more sinister than a bar fight. The others had dealt with similar activity levels in their own sections. While not an entirely unheard-of occurrence, it was always nice to have smooth sailing the whole way through. Then there was the fact that, due to staffing shortages on both teams, One and Three had paired up for the evening—which meant that Will got to spend time with Donna, whom he hadn't seen much of since her transfer.

"Speaking of behaving," Donna began. There was a moment of silence as she navigated through a particularly difficult turn. "How are things with Keira and her mom? Have they talked since…?"

Will shook his head. He didn't mind discussing this with Donna: she'd heard enough from his coworkers to piece the story together, so he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know; and Donna wasn't Greg, which meant that he could talk (for the most part) without fear of professional repercussions for Keira. "Keira wants nothing to do with her, and Jason's not going to force it. She's still mad at him, but she's been calling every night to talk to Brian and so far they haven't discussed it. They were supposed to have lunch together today, though." He'd texted her both before and after, the first time to say good luck and the second to ask how it went, but she hadn't gotten back to him.

He hoped they hadn't fought. As betrayed as Keira felt by Jason's decision to let their mother into his house, it was obvious that she missed seeing him, Brian, and Allie on a daily basis.

"How's she holding up?"

"Well, she's angry," Will said, carefully gauging each word. Although he trusted Donna, there was still the chance that she might mention something to Greg, and he didn't want to accidentally be responsible for Keira getting additional time off. "She hates the fact that her mom's back in her life, but she hates the fact that she's now in Brian's life even more. And since she's alone for most of the day, she doesn't have much to keep her mind off of it."

"What about when you're with her?"

Will shrugged. "I've been trying to keep her distracted. Either it works sometimes or she's good at playing along—I think both."

He didn't mention the movie they'd gone to see last night, the movie he'd suggested only after scouring online reviews to make sure nothing in it would trigger her. He didn't mention how dumb the movie had been, how she'd laughed with him the entire way through—only to sink back into her usual silence on the drive home. He didn't mention it because at one point in the theater she'd reached for her soda and instead found his hand; and then she'd gently raked her thumb across his skin, letting it linger for a few seconds before picking up her drink.

Because long after the moment was over, every nerve in his hand was still tingling.

"How are you holding up?"

Donna's query startled him. "Me?" Will asked, blinking. It didn't matter how _he_ was doing—Keira was the one they had to worry about. She kept trying to hold her anger back in front of him, always cutting herself short whenever her voice started to rise; but Mrs. Richardson's appearance at the SRU had shattered the life she'd painstakingly built for herself, and Will didn't think she had any idea how to pick up what was left.

As if reading his thoughts, Donna said, "Keira's going through a lot right now, but that doesn't mean it's been easy on you."

Will stared out the window, but he couldn't see the Toronto skyline anymore. All he could see were bruises on Keira's body, bruises that he'd teased her about because he'd been too stupid to connect the dots. A couple of times she'd even brought ice packs to school, wincing every time she pressed them down against a swollen mass of purple and blue. "Fucking sticks," she would mutter, or "fucking hurdles," or "fucking bitches on the other team." And he and the rest of their friends would laugh, not knowing that what they were really laughing at was her stepfather's fists.

"Will?"

"I still can't believe I never figured it out," he said hollowly. "What kind of a friend buys all those stories about her getting injured during practice, and doesn't once think that _maybe_ the reason no one else on the team has them isn't because she just bruises easily, but because they're not really coming from practice?"

"Everyone has twenty-twenty in hindsight," Donna reminded him. "It only seems obvious now that you know the truth."

Will shrugged irritably. It was easy for Donna to say that when Keira hadn't climbed in through _her_ window at night to escape her parents, when _she_ hadn't seen Keira's fists curl every time she talked about her stepfather. Donna hadn't been there the summer after their senior year when Keira stopped wearing bikinis, citing a major sunburn from the previous summer that no one could remember. Will, on the other hand, had been given every single piece of the kindergarten-level puzzle and still hadn't been able to put it together.

"She didn't tell you for a reason," Donna said gently. "And I don't think it was because of a failing on your part."

Will remembered Jason's words: _Keira said that… that he was the only person keeping her sane. The McKnights were pretty much her family, you know, what she should have had at home. She wanted to leave so badly, but she couldn't stand the thought of not seeing them anymore. Especially Will._

"Will—"

"Can we talk about something else?" he asked quietly.

"Sure," Donna said after a moment, though Will knew he hadn't heard the last of it. "Did you catch the Canucks game last night?"

Will felt Keira's thumb trace a burning arc across his skin. "No, I missed it. They won, right?"

They chatted easily enough about the game for a while, until they reached the busy intersection that meant they were five minutes away from SRU headquarters. "Mind if I call Keira?" Will asked then. "I just want to let her know that I'll be heading home soon."

Donna waved her hand. "No problem. Tell her I said hi."

Will hit "4" (he had long ago put Keira's number on speed dial, just behind his parents and Jess) and pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for her to pick up.

"Hey."

That was it: a single, familiar "hey" that somehow was enough to ease the knot in his chest.

"Hey," he said, relaxing a little into the seat. "How's it going? How was lunch with Jason?"

"Good."

Although "good" didn't necessarily mean anything with Keira, Will noted that her voice was more animated than it had been over the past couple of days. "Yeah? What'd you talk about?"

"I'll tell you about it when you get back. Are you coming home soon?"

"Yeah, I'll be leaving in about twenty minutes. What do you want me to get for take-out?"

There was a slight pause. "Actually, I kind of started making dinner already."

"_You're _making dinner?" Keira wasn't exactly known for her culinary skills.

"No faith," she chided him, though she had laughed at his remark.

"The last time I had faith, you set off the fire alarm in my dorm and the RA gave me a citation," Will reminded her. "And those were just brownies."

"That was baking, not cooking. Jason's been teaching me. Or, he sort of taught me some things before he gave up."

"Okay, so, what do you want me to get for take-out?" At this point, he was goading her just to hear the smile in her voice.

"Shut up. I'm doing this. I promise I won't burn your kitchen down."

Will wasn't sure he believed her. "Is that Madonna you're listening to?"

"Mmhm. I'm getting in the mood. So hurry up."

Apparently Will's brain had been replaced by that of a twelve-year-old's, because his thought process went straight to his groin as he imagined Keira "getting in the mood." Shit. He gritted his teeth and promised, "I will."

When he hung up, Donna asked, "So, how's that situation working out?"

"Situation?"

Donna shrugged. "You and Keira. Living together," she said, and she didn't need to elaborate any further for him to know what she meant. He supposed Greg had given her the heads-up, maybe even asked her to keep an eye on him—or she had just figured it out on her own, because he'd learned by now that not much got past her.

"It's fine." Once again, he was proceeding with caution, determined not to say anything that could get Keira in trouble. "She pretty much used to live at my house, so there's nothing really to get used to." He stopped himself from going any further, wondering if he'd already crossed a line. While there was a legitimate reason for him and Keira adjusting so quickly to sharing an apartment together, he wasn't sure if Donna would buy it.

But all Donna said was, "Be careful with that."

Her warning lingered in the back of his mind all the way home, up the building stairs, and down the hallway to his apartment—and then disappeared the instant he opened the door. He heard pots and pans clanging together, little more than background noise next to the stereo that was just shy of blaring; and Keira was singing, completely off-tune, her voice caterwauling over the vent. He barely managed to recognize the lyrics to Madonna's "Cherish."

From the door, he had a clear view of the living room, but the kitchen was hidden behind a wall that extended just enough to create a mudroom of sorts. He didn't announce his presence. Instead, he took more time than usual removing his jacket, listening to Keira working her way through the song (he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what else was going on in the kitchen). Whatever she and Jason had discussed at lunch, it had obviously gone well.

After putting his keys in the tray, he quietly rounded the corner. The kitchen came into view, and with it Keira, who was washing some pans in the sink and moving her hips in time with the music. "_I was never satisfied with casual encounters,_" she belted out, not noticing when she spilled some water over the edge of the sink. "_I can't hide my need for two hearts that beat with burning love, that's the way it's got to be…_"

It was… adorable. And sexy. And everything he wanted to come home to for the rest of his life.

"Hey," he said, raising his voice in order to be heard over the music.

Keira whirled around, then relaxed when she saw him. A smile spread across her face. "Hey. I didn't hear you come in."

Will found that he couldn't stop grinning. "I noticed."

"What is it?" she asked warily.

He gave her the simple answer. "You. Singing."

"Missed my voice?" she teased him. Turning back to the sink, she said, "Dinner's ready. I'm just going to wash my hands and I'll be good to go. Can you grab some plates?"

"What'd you make?" Will inquired as he stepped into the kitchen. He had to resist the urge to slip his arms around her waist and murmur the words in her ear; but even after he turned away and started rooting through the cupboards, he was imagining his lips pressed against the curve of her neck. She would smell like the citrus shampoo that was now in his shower, and her skin would be soft and yielding to the touch…

"Pasta," Keira informed him, "aka the only thing I _can_ make. Oh, and some salad to compensate for the carbs. And I may or may not have picked up some cinnamon buns for dessert."

"Oh, wow, you went all out."

Keira turned off the water and shot him a quick look. "You still eat those things, right?"

He nodded, grinning. "My mom keeps trying to get me to at least switch over to donuts, but there's no way I'm going to be one of those cops."

Keira was busy shoveling the pasta into a serving bowl and didn't respond, but there was a smile on her face when she started bringing the food over to the table.

After a moment of amicable silence in which they laid everything out between their two chairs, drinks included, and finally sat down, Will joked, "This is very domestic."

Keira laughed. "Don't get used to it," she warned. "This is literally the extent of my cooking capabilities. Unless you count macaroni and cheese for Brian."

"Well, it looks good," Will said cautiously. There was nothing outwardly amiss about the pasta, which was an innocent enough linguine and vegetable dish, but he was prepared to pretend that he liked it—at least until Keira called him out, anyway.

Once he had served himself a portion that was rather ambitious, all things considered, he tentatively spooled the linguine around his fork and bit into it. Keira watched him intently, her mouth twitching at the corners.

"This is good!"

"You're surprised," Keira observed drily, without a trace of hurt feelings. She chuckled as Will, astonished, dug in for another bite.

"Wow. I'm actually really impressed, I'm not even kidding. This is great." After swallowing, he asked, "So, how did things with Jason go?"

Keira's posture straightened, almost impulsively; Will didn't think she realized she was doing it. "We talked."

"About…?"

"Mostly Brian. He's still getting used to the fact that he now has two grandmothers. And of course he wanted to know if he had another grandfather, too, so Jason had to tell him no, and…" She shook her head, making a visible effort to rein herself in. "Basically he has a lot of questions, and Jason's been fudging the answers as best as he can."

"Has he been asking about you and your mom?"

"Jason told him we don't get along, but he hasn't said why. He's not going to tell Brian anything about Jim, and he's told the bitch not to."

Lately, Keira had been trying out different swearwords when referring to her mother; "bitch" was her current obscenity of choice, although "piece of shit" and "that fucking woman" were close contenders. Although it troubled him to see her so angry, he wasn't about to ask her to tone it down when the wounds had just been reopened; bottling everything up would only make it worse, when what she really needed was to flush it out of her system.

"I get to see Brian next Sunday," she said abruptly, the darkness vanishing from her eyes as she switched the topic to her nephew. "I'm taking him to Wonderland, kind of an apology for skipping out this week."

"You didn't skip out on him," Will reminded her. "You've been calling him every night."

She shrugged. "It's not the same, though. He's confused and he doesn't understand why I won't come home. So I'll take him to the amusement park, let him have a good time, and then try to explain things as best as I can. I don't want him to think that this has anything to do with him."

"Does he?"

"I don't know," Keira admitted, looking down at her glass. "He asked me the other night if I'd be mad if he went to the movies with the bitch. And of course I told him I wouldn't, but I was pretty pissed. He might have picked up on that."

Will's eyebrows raised. "Jason let your mom take him to the movies?"

"No, the three of them went together. I fucking _hate_ how she's trying to build a relationship with him." Keira's outburst didn't specify whether "him" was referring to Brian or Jason, but Will had a feeling that she meant both. "Who the fuck does she think she is, after everything she did—" She sighed, put her fork down, and pressed her palms against her face in frustration. "Shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be going on like this. I wanted to have dinner with you, not bitch at you about my fucked-up family."

"You're not bitching at me," Will replied. "Considering the week you've had? You can vent all you want."

She shook her head. "But I don't want to. I was in a really good mood earlier about seeing Brian, and then I wanted to spend tonight with you, and now I'm ruining our dinner."

"Hey." Will reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing it. An image of Donna surfaced in his mind, warning him to be careful, but he ignored it and concentrated on Keira. "If you don't want to talk about your family, that's fine. But if you do—let's just say it's going to take a lot more than you being angry for me to think any less of you."

He felt Keira's hand squeeze back. "Thanks."

He smiled at her, and she smiled back; a moment later, she shifted the conversation to Spike and Lou's vacation in Jamaica. Will followed accordingly.


	40. Lou

**Chapter Forty: Lou**

Keira returned to work on the same Monday that Spike and Lou came back from their vacation, and their brief reunion before the shift started was the last time she ever spoke to Lou.

Because on that hot summer day, a group of environmental extremists planted a series of bombs around the city, and when Lou tried to disarm one he stepped on a landmine, and nothing Spike did could save him, and then he was gone and the vans were silent as they drove back to SRU headquarters. The survivors filed into the briefing room and no one wanted to be there, no one wanted to speak—so it fell on Ed and Greg and somehow that was worse, because even _Ed _was fighting back tears the entire time. Keira couldn't bear it. She slumped in her chair and tried not to listen, watching her hands clench and twist and lock together until she pulled them apart and started all over again.

Afterwards, they performed the delicate, uncertain dance of approaching Spike. One by one, they let him know that they were there for him, that tonight—and any night—they were only a phone call away. If he said anything in response, it was monosyllabic and so quiet that they had to strain to hear it. Keira overheard Greg tell Ed that he was arranging for Spike to see Dr. Luria within the week, and she had to bite back her anger. Therapy didn't work unless you were ready for it; and Spike was in no shape for anything but driving home right now, if that, let alone having a fresh wound poked and prodded.

When it was her turn to talk to him, she kept things brief, knowing that he was probably sick of the well-wishers at this point—if it had been her, she would have been internally screaming at each pitying expression. Aware that Winnie was watching from the front desk, she avoided making physical contact. "I'm here if you need anything," she told him, noting how white his knuckles were against his skin, "but if not, that's okay."

It was so short and perfunctory that he actually glanced up at her, his eyes widening in surprise and gratitude before sinking back into hollowness. He didn't speak; Keira didn't expect him to. She left him sitting there, with twitching hands and salt-streaked cheeks, and tried to ignore the way her own mouth was quivering with unshed tears.

She and Lou had never been close; in fact, she'd often suspected that he had no idea what Spike saw in her. But he was still a coworker, still a teammate—someone she implicitly trusted to have her back. Someone she had suffered with through endless drills, calls gone wrong, shifts that didn't end until ungodly hours. More importantly, she'd witnessed the steadying effect he had on Spike, the bond between them that had sustained them through anything and everything the job had thrown at them. Until today.

"You okay?" Will asked when she found him after. He was leaning against the exit door, waiting for her so they could leave together.

Keira shrugged, and avoided inquiring about his eyes—which were red and irritated, as if he'd been rubbing at them for a while. "Let's just go home," she said, her voice petering out to little more than a whisper.

And if he thought it was strange that she referred to his apartment as home, he didn't comment. Instead he held the door open, and she walked past him into a brutal wave of heat that brought her too close to the morning's events. Wincing under the bright glare of the sun, she led the way to her car, all the while trying not to look in the direction of Lou's vehicle. God, his parents would have to come and pick it up.

"Want me to drive?" Will asked, but she shook her head. Driving gave her something to do, something to think of other than the noise and Lou's final words and Spike's expression when he saw what was left of his best friend.

But soon she found that she could only focus on the car ahead of her for so long. Traffic was not conducive to forgetfulness, and the silence between her and Will left ample room for doubts. Was there anything they could have done to save Lou? Would Spike's weight transfer idea, as crazy as it had sounded at the time, have worked? Or were they all destined to be helpless at the end, unable to do anything but watch as their teammate died?

And then the question lingering over their heads: who would be next? Who else would fall in the line of duty?

She couldn't help but glance at Will as the thought crossed her mind, and when she looked back at the road it was little more than a blurry ribbon.

The apartment was silent when they returned. Every movement was gratingly loud, echoing unnaturally in the still air and setting both of them on edge. Keira gave up on the thought of showering, eating, or even changing into more comfortable clothes—somehow it all seemed to require too much effort, too much caring about things that weren't Spike or Lou. She sank onto the couch instead, wondering how long she would last if she pressed her elbows into her knees and stared at the floor.

For a few minutes, she heard Will making attempts at normalcy: he took off his shoes, rummaged around in the refrigerator, and finally returned empty-handed to the living room. "Do you want to be alone," he asked quietly, "or—"

"No," she cut him off, and she didn't look up until she felt the cushions dip beneath his familiar weight. He rested his head in his hands, unintentionally mimicking her pose, and exhaled through his fingers.

"Did Spike go home alone?"

"He wanted to," Keira explained, wondering when the insides of her throat had glued themselves together. "But he'll be with his parents, so…" So what? It would magically be easier? It would hurt any less?

Will's next question was quieter. "Have you ever lost a teammate before?"

Keira shook her head, trying to swallow the lump in her throat so she could squeeze a response around it. "I've seen people retire or get promoted, but that's it. You?"

"Same." Will shifted, his leg briefly coming into contact with hers. "A couple of cops were killed back when I was in Vancouver, but they were always in other divisions. I've never had to… It just wasn't personal then, you know?"

Keira nodded. "It feels like it could be any of us now," she confessed, her eyes watering. "I mean, no one knew that landmine was there. And there could be another one tomorrow. Or maybe we'll get another sniper, like that guy who went after Ed, and we'll never see it coming."

"And the risk's part of the job description, but it doesn't sink in until…" Will trailed off grimly.

"I can't even imagine going back tomorrow," Keira choked. Even as she spoke, she knew she was lying—she would show up to work like always, because even now she loved her job too much to quit; but she also knew that _what if_ would linger in the back of her mind during every hot call, that she would no longer be able to take the team's safety for granted. "What if the same thing happens to Spike? What if—what if you—" She got no further before she began crying.

As Will's hand came to rest on her shoulder, she realized that this was what had frightened her the most: not the notion that anyone could die on the job, but that _Will_ could die—and, unlike the years they'd spent on opposite sides of the country, this time there would be no hope of reuniting. He would simply be gone, and she would have to face the rest of her life without him.

"Hey," he whispered, squeezing. "It's okay. I'm still here."

"But what if you're _not_?" she demanded. "What if you die and—and—" The thought was too horrible to finish. She hated what her voice had become: a thin, tremulous version of itself, rising one second and fading the next, too weak to sustain a syllable. "You can't die. You can't. I won't—I can't do this without you, I'd rather kill myself—"

"Hey." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, halting her train of thought as though its very essence were poisonous. "I'm still here," he repeated.

"For how long?" she wanted to ask; but she started bawling instead, alternately for Will and for Spike, who by now must have been forced to explain everything to his parents. If she felt this horrible, she could only imagine what he was going through—and if she ever had to find out, she didn't think she'd be able to handle it.

But for now there was Will, and the shadows lengthening as night gathered outside the apartment, and eventually someone's growling stomach. Will threw something into the microwave, which barely registered as she consumed it; then he opened a beer, and she felt a brief surge of longing before she remembered that, in her case, alcohol would only make things worse.

Somehow, they wound up back on the couch, Keira's head resting against Will's shoulder as neither of them paid attention to what was on the television. Exhausted, she had just begun to drift off to sleep when something vibrated in her pocket. For a terrifying instant, she thought it was a bomb about to go off—then her mind cleared, and she realized it was just her phone.

She was still struggling for air as she checked to see who was calling. Will looked at her quizzically, but all she said was, "It's Spike."

Disentangling herself from Will, she accepted the call. Before she could figure out what to say, Spike's voice poured through the speaker. "Hey," he slurred, and her heart sank. "What are you—what are you doing right now? I need you…" He trailed off, and Keira winced as she heard something falling in the background. "I need you to come over. Make sure I don't do anything stupid."

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Keira." Now he sounded on the verge of tears, which was even worse than the drunkenness. "Please. Please come over."

And though she already knew it was a bad idea, by the time he lapsed into silence again she was on her feet and searching for her car keys. Will watched her move around the apartment, his brow furrowing in concern. "I'm on my way," she told Spike. "Are you going to be okay until I get there? Do you want me to stay on the line while I'm driving?"

"No, I…" For a moment, the only sound between them was Spike's ragged breathing. "Just please hurry."

As she hung up, Will was getting to his feet. She knew what he was about to say, and she tried in vain to head him off. "Will, I have to go."

"How drunk was he?"

"Wow, you could have at least asked how he's doing before you—"

"I don't need to ask how he's doing. I know he's feeling like shit. But I don't want you getting caught up in it—"

"Getting caught up in it?" Keira echoed in disbelief. "You don't get to make that decision for me. He's one of my best friends, I can't not be there for him. And don't act like you wouldn't do the same if it were me."

"You're right." Will sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Look, I'm not… I know you want to help him, and I'm not going to stop you. But just be careful, okay? He sounded really messed up."

"Of course he's messed up," Keira retorted, cringing at the defensive note in her voice. As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, Will's warning had struck a chord within her—a memory, faint and yet ever-present, of another time she had ignored his advice. "What exactly do you think he's going to do?"

Judging by his expression, Will didn't want to answer any more than she wanted to listen. "Just be careful, okay?" he repeated, his eyes locking with hers for a brief, quiet moment.

The spell was broken when she opened the door. "Don't wait up," she replied, stepping out into the night.


	41. Loss

**WARNING:** This chapter may contain some triggering elements. In the interest of not spoiling anything, I won't go into any specifics here, but feel free to PM me if you have any concerns and I'll be happy to provide a more detailed warning.

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><p><strong>Chapter Forty-One: Loss<strong>

The smell was the first thing Keira noticed, a staggering combination of wine and vodka. "I'm so glad you're here," Spike mumbled, not bothering to hide the tears in his eyes.

"How much have you had to drink?" Keira asked again. She had a few fuzzy memories of mixing alcoholic beverages in high school; most of them ended with her puking her guts out in the McKnights' toilet. By the looks of him, Spike wasn't doing much better.

"Don't know. Don't care. Come in."

Ignoring the instincts that were telling her this was a bad idea, Keira followed Spike into the basement, holding her breath until he had managed his way down the stairs without any mishaps. Her eyes immediately gravitated toward the surfaces in the room, until finally she located the culprit: a bottle of Stoli on the nightstand, only half full, next to a shot glass that Spike had apparently missed earlier while pouring. She stared in dismay at the vodka dripping onto the floor.

_Be careful,_ Will warned her.

"Did you open that bottle tonight?" was all she could think to say. She didn't dare mention Lou.

"No. I'm not that suicidal. Yet." Spike slumped onto the bed, curling over and burying his face in his right hand. With his left, he reached out to her. "Come here."

_Be careful, _Will warned her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Keira asked quietly, as he'd done so many times with her. She had a feeling that his response would echo what hers had always been.

"No, I don't want to fucking _talk_ about it…" Spike broke down in tears.

Keira found herself struggling not to cry as she watched him. She had no idea what to say to him—what could even be said, after all, that would do the situation any justice? What could you tell someone who had just lost their best friend, without sounding like every cliché in the book?

In the end, she settled on what Will had always done with her: she edged closer to Spike, tentatively wrapped her arms around him, and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Spike's body was wracked with sobs. "He didn't have to do it," he choked out. "I was going to throw a weight transfer—I would have gotten him out—he didn't have to do it…"

Somehow, Keira managed to speak around whatever was lodged in her throat. "He didn't want to risk you getting killed—"

"I wouldn't have!" Spike roared, twisting out of her grasp. "I'm not an idiot, I can do a fucking weight transfer, it's part of my goddamn job—"

"No one's saying you're an idiot, Spike." Keira had barely been able to conceal the start she'd had when he began yelling; she forced herself to remain calm, to concentrate on Spike when, suddenly, all she wanted was to be back in the apartment with Will. "Lou knew, even with you, that the weight transfer was risky—"

"Better to risk it than to give up!" Spike snapped. "As if you wouldn't have begged me to do it if it were Will on that mine—"

"And if you hadn't done it, I would have done it myself," Keira finished. "I know. I wasn't going to stop you."

Spike was slightly mollified to hear this. "I don't understand why he did it," he whispered, his voice ragged and hollow. "He told me… He told me to call Bridget tonight… and to fucking watch the baseball game with her… I don't even want to _look_ at her anymore…"

Keira's eyes started to water. "He didn't want you to be alone," she whispered, wondering if that had been the moment when Lou realized he wasn't going to make it home.

"I keep seeing it." Spike was oblivious to her suggestion. "I keep seeing it, I can't make it stop…"

Keira winced. She knew what it was like, having those horrible memories playing over and over in her head until she would have given anything for them to go away. Lou had waited until Spike's back was turned before lifting his foot, but Spike's imagination was undoubtedly filling the gap in hundreds of awful ways. "You're not going to see it forever," was all she could say for comfort. "Eventually it'll stop."

"When?" Spike asked helplessly. "How long do I have to watch him d—d—" He was practically gagging on the word.

"I don't know," she murmured, rubbing his back. "I'm sorry, I wish I did."

Spike lowered his face into his hands again, digging in and pulling at his skin.

"Spike—"

"My dad wants me to quit the SRU," he announced in a muffled voice.

"He… He brought that up tonight?" It wasn't the first time Spike's father had expressed his discontent with Spike's job. A terminally ill man, Mr. Scarlatti undoubtedly felt the constant weight of death's presence and didn't relish the fact that his son occasionally had brushes with it at work. But tonight, of all nights… No wonder Spike was inebriated.

"He thinks it's all a game. That I'm just 'playing the hero'… and that I'm going to get myself killed, just like… just like…"

"That's not going to happen," Keira said with more conviction than she felt.

"You can't guarantee that." Spike straightened and glared at her. "You can't fucking—not after today—"

"I'm sorry—"

"You know that could have been Will? He's been to the seminars, he's had the training… That could have been him trying to disarm the bomb and stepping on a landmine instead. And maybe it'll be him next time."

"Don't—" Keira felt too sick to continue.

"Why? You don't want to think about it? Because it wasn't _your_ friend? Because you were lucky?"

Keira flinched. "Spike—"

"Don't!" He shoved aside the hand she'd put on his shoulder. "Just stop talking. I don't want to hear it—_fuck_, my ears are still ringing—" He reached for the bottle on his nightstand.

Quickly, aided by the fact that she was sober and he wasn't, Keira stepped over his knees and whisked away the vodka. "You've had enough for tonight," she said firmly.

Before she could cross back over to his other side, Spike grabbed her by the waist. "Give me that," he ordered, trying to wrest the bottle from her grasp.

Keira held it away from him, ignoring the way his fingers were curling into her stomach. "Not tonight."

"Don't pull that shit on me. Give me the fucking bottle."

"No."

"Give it to me—" Spike pulled her down, making her lose her balance as she was forced to awkwardly straddle him.

Briefly wondering if this was what Will had once felt like on post-party babysitting duty—and realizing that she was in for a long night, if karma had started calling in its debts—Keira just managed to keep the vodka out of Spike's reach. "No," she repeated. "You can't beat me at this sober, you're not going to now—"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck _you_," Keira snapped, an instant before she tipped over the bottle and emptied its contents onto the floor.

In the silence that followed, she reached over Spike's shoulder and dropped the now useless bottle on the bed. "Fuck you," he said weakly.

"Yeah, whatever." Keira tried to extricate herself from Spike, but his grip on her arms tightened. "Spike—"

He leaned forward and kissed her, reeking of alcohol and misery. There was nothing pleasant about it: he was drowning and she was the way under, his tongue plunging clumsily into her mouth in search of oblivion as his lips smashed against her own.

_Be careful,_ Will warned her.

Keira was gasping for air when she managed to pull back. "Spike, I—"

"Please," he whispered. His eyes were no longer his own: they belonged to a different Spike, a broken Spike; a man who had lost everything and needed something, anything, to take away the pain.

And Keira knew all too well what that felt like.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

She barely had time to prepare herself before Spike was on her, his lips clamping down on hers so tightly that there were sure to be bruises in the morning. Her senses were quickly overwhelmed; there was only Spike and Stoli, only his rapid breathing and Will telling her to be careful. This was what he had been warning her about—and yet she had known, had anticipated what Spike would want from her, and by coming over here she had implicitly agreed to it…

_No, you didn't,_ Will would have said as Spike lifted her up and pushed her onto the bed.

But even though sex was the last thing she wanted right now, she didn't have it in her to say no to Spike. Not when he was this desperately lonely, not when it was her or another bottle. So she winced, but didn't tell him to stop, when he jammed his fingers down the front of her jeans in a drunken attempt at pleasuring her.

"It's my fault," he mumbled, slipping a finger inside of her. Keira stifled a gasp when he accidentally scratched her, but he didn't notice. "I let him have a go at the bomb, it should have been me on that mine…"

Keira struggled to keep her mind and body separate, debating how to respond to her friend's rambling while shifting her hips in a futile effort to get comfortable. Spike eventually lapsed into relative silence, his breath hot against her cheek as he fumbled with the zipper on her jeans. His fingernails were digging into her skin.

For the first time that night, Keira felt a twinge of fear in her stomach. "Spike," she said. "Spike, wait—"

"Huh?" Spike looked down at her in confusion.

She swallowed. "Condom."

It was okay, she told herself as Spike crawled over to the other side of the bed. So he was being rougher tonight than usual—she could handle that. It wasn't like he was intentionally hurting her. His judgment was rapidly deteriorating, lost somewhere in a dangerous cocktail of alcohol and grief. What he wanted was some kind of release, an outlet for his misery… and she'd made the decision to go to him tonight.

All the same, she couldn't ignore her apprehension when Spike climbed back on top of her. The small hope she'd harbored of him being too drunk to get it up was crushed beneath his weight, which forced her down into the mattress and made her agonizingly aware of all the places where the sheets were bunched up beneath her. She turned her head to the side, seeking fresh air, but Spike's mouth was everywhere and she couldn't breathe.

He impatiently tugged her pants down, abandoning the task at her knees and effectively trapping her legs. Increasingly claustrophobic, Keira attempted to finish kicking off her jeans, but Spike was in the way and all she succeeded in doing was tangling herself up even more.

She was dimly aware of him yanking at her underwear; then, with a grunt, he entered her. She gasped at the pain, gripping his shoulders so tightly that she was surprised he didn't cry out as well. Spike's earlier, clumsy foray between her legs hadn't prepared her in the slightest for penetration, and she found herself biting her lip as he began thrusting with no discernible rhythm.

There was nothing enjoyable about this. There was no trace of the man who had taken his time with her, who had made eye contact and laughed with her and helped her forget the world outside. All that was left was his skin slapping against hers, his arms pinning her down, his tortured breathing and her muted gasps of discomfort. She might as well have been with a stranger.

And then Spike's movements became faster, harder, his grief morphing into rage. She didn't think he even remembered that she was there. His gaze was fixed at the wall, his eyes boring in on some point over her shoulder. Keira was genuinely afraid now: each stab of pain was worse than the last, and she didn't know how much more she could take. "Spike," she whispered, trying to push him away.

He bent down and kissed her, biting her lip in the process. She yelped, but no sound came out: he was smothering her, whimpering something unintelligible into her mouth, cutting off her air supply. She splayed her palms against his chest and shoved, to no effect. Her position didn't offer any leverage and, worse, he scarcely seemed to feel a thing.

"Spike!" she cried out when he finally stopped kissing her, but her gasps for air robbed her voice of its strength. By the time she had recovered enough to speak, Spike's face was buried in her neck. She could feel his tears trickling down her skin, mingling with her sweat, as he thrust into her so brutally that it was all she could do not to scream.

"Spike, st—"

His hand clamped down on her mouth. "Don't," he said, a silent plea in his eyes. "Not now…"

_Don't what?_ Keira wondered, stiffening. _Don't talk? Don't ask you to stop?_ As obvious as it would have been to an observer, she didn't think he had any idea that he was hurting her. He was lost in another world, wrestling with his own demons, and hadn't realized that he'd awoken some of hers.

Because the truth was, this felt less like sex and more like… She closed her eyes, not wanting to admit it, but it was true: whatever this was, it was terrifyingly similar to her nights with Jim. The way she would turn her head to the side, trying and failing to avoid his mouth; his hips slamming into hers as the bed creaked below them, those unmistakable sounds intermingling with her strangled cries; and that feeling of being utterly alone, helpless to do anything but ride out the storm.

Except this time, she wasn't helpless. All she had to do was jack up her hips and tilt her body to the right—no, better the left, the nightstand was on the right—and Spike would no longer be on top of her. The instant she'd had enough, she could stop him. He wasn't raping her. Not Spike. She could get out from underneath him whenever she wanted to.

And maybe it was the knowledge of how easy it would be to escape that kept her there, motionless, gritting her teeth as Spike came closer and closer to finishing. Would it really be so bad to just let him fuck her and get it over with? If she had to, she would put an end to it. But why make him feel even shittier than he already did—unless it was absolutely necessary?

_Because he's hurting you, that's why,_ said a voice that sounded suspiciously like Will. _You don't have to let him use you like this. Lou's death doesn't give him a free pass._

_He's drunk,_ she told herself, gasping when Spike's nails dug into her forearms. _It's not his fault. He doesn't know—_

_Being drunk is a shitty excuse, and you know it,_ said Will's voice, only it wasn't Will's voice because Will wasn't here. She was all alone on this bed and waiting for Spike to stop, just like she had waited for Jim to stop back in high school, and suddenly it felt like nothing had changed since then because she was _still_ letting herself be violated by other men when all she had ever wanted was Will.

And then Spike came with a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a shout, his muscles trembling as he collapsed on top of her and squeezed all the air out of her lungs. This final indignity, after everything else he had done to her, was too much. She threw him off of her, remembering just in time to turn her hips towards the left instead of the right, and scrambled away while he was still trying to figure out what had happened.

"Keira?" he asked thickly, staring up at her in bewilderment. "Where are you going?"

That was when she started to cry.

"I can't do this anymore."

"What?" Spike blinked, then shook his head, trying to shake off the effects of the alcohol in his system. "Do what?"

"This!" Keira swept her arm out, gesturing around the room as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. The pain between her legs was excruciating; the only thing keeping her going was the thought of Will's arms wrapped around her. "I can't—I'm sorry—I need to go—"

As she started to pull up her pants, Spike asked, "Is that blood?"

"What?" Keira wriggled back into the denim constraints, wincing at each movement.

"No, stop." Spike's voice was sharp; he lunged across the bed, far closer to sobriety than he had been a few seconds ago, and stared in horror at her legs. "You're bleeding."

"I have to go," Keira choked out, making a useless attempt to wipe her eyes.

Spike wasn't listening. "Did I do that to you?"

Keira yanked her jeans the rest of the way up so neither of them would have to see it. "Spike—"

"Did I do that to you?" he demanded frantically.

When she didn't answer, Spike staggered out the bed and into the bathroom, where she heard him throwing up everything in his stomach. The retching noises soon became mixed with sobs, which turned into a horrible gagging noise that had Keira hobbling towards the bathroom. "Spike, don't—"

"Why didn't you say something?" he gasped, jerking the faucet handle. He grabbed fistfuls of the cold water that streamed out and slapped it against his face, leaving bright red marks against his skin. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

In the silence that followed, he lifted his head and stared into the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of her expression. "You did," he whispered, his shoulders sagging.

The lump in her throat was making it difficult to breathe.

"When?" he asked hoarsely.

Keira swallowed. "I-I said your name…"

Spike's face grew steadily paler, until his cheeks were the only splotches of red against a deathly white background. "I thought you were trying to talk about—about him…"

Keira shook her head, then winced when Spike started vomiting. "Don't do that to yourself. It's not your fault."

"Not my _fault_?" Spike echoed after he'd finished. He could barely speak, but Keira couldn't tell whether it was because he'd been sick or because he was disgusted with himself. "Keira, I just _raped_ you—oh my God—" He stumbled over to the toilet and sat down, cradling his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, over and over again. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" he choked out. "I raped you, I'm no better than—oh my God…"

"Hey," Keira said roughly. She crossed the bathroom and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look up at her. "Don't you dare try to compare yourself to my rapist. You didn't know what you were doing. I could have thrown you off anytime I wanted to, but I didn't. So don't fucking say you raped me, because it's not the same thing at all."

"That's not an excuse for what I did." Spike rose unsteadily to his feet. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, you're not. Sit down," Keira said, not moving.

"You're bleeding."

"And you're not driving."

"Then _you_ drive, and I'll go with you—"

"And what the hell are they going to do, put a Band-Aid on it? I'm not fucking going to the hospital so they can shove something else up there for an examination." Keira felt nauseous at the thought.

"But—"

"Spike, I'm _fine_. The only place I want to go right now is home."

Her voice broke on the last word, and for a long moment Spike could only stare at her. Then he asked quietly, "When you said you couldn't do this anymore, did you mean tonight or… did you mean us?"

When Keira shrugged helplessly, her eyes welling up with tears, Spike drew in a shaky breath. "I knew this was going to happen," he said, his words slurred yet determined.

"What do you mean?"

"Not tonight," he mumbled, clutching at the sink as if for balance. "But I knew this wasn't going to last. You're in love with Will and he's in love with you and sooner or later the two of you are going to stop being idiots and do something about it. Maybe you can go on double dates with Sam and Jules."

Keira winced. "Spike, don't—"

"I'm serious," he insisted. "Maybe not about the double dating part, but everything else is true. This"—he waved his hand in the general direction of his bed, unintentionally mimicking her gesture from earlier—"was over the day Will joined the SRU. It just took me a while to figure it out and, once I did, I didn't want to…" He trailed off and looked up at her, his brown eyes glimmering under the harsh fluorescent light. "I really like you, Keira. And I'm so sorry for… for what I did. But you're right, we can't do this anymore."

"You want it to end?" she asked numbly, though it was more of a statement than a question because she didn't know how they could possibly continue. And yet, even after what had just happened, she still cared deeply for Spike. Their relationship had been a source of comfort to her during the past two years, his company often the lone bright spot in the drudgery of yet another week without Will. The realization that it was over—and that it had come down to drunken apologies and blood dripping down her legs in his bathroom—made her feel even worse than she'd felt at any point tonight. She didn't want this to be her last memory of their time together.

"I'm in a really bad place right now," Spike admitted, sinking back down onto the toilet. His red-rimmed eyes stared blankly at the tiled floor. "And I treated you like shit because of it. You deserve better than that."

"Spike—"

"You think Will would have done something like that to you?"

Before she could stop herself she was shaking her head, the idea so foreign to her that she could barely grasp it. Will was safe. Will was arms wrapped around her and a calm voice telling her that everything would be okay. Will was what she needed right now, as she stood trembling in front of Spike.

"Go home," Spike told her, making no effort to disguise the fact that he, too, was crying. "Go home and be with him."

"What about you?" she whispered.

Spike shook his head. "I don't know. I just… I need to be alone…"

"Do you want me to check in on you?" She made the offer because she didn't know what else to say, because she didn't think that there was anything either of them could do to make this less difficult. All she knew was that she didn't want to leave Spike by himself, with no one to distract him from the memories.

He smiled sadly. "I have the boss for that."

"Promise me you won't…"

"Commit suicide?" Spike suggested when she faltered.

"Spike!"

He picked up on the distress in her voice and exhaled, saying, "I'm sorry. I won't do anything stupid. I promise." Rising to his feet, he added, "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Spike, I…"

And even though she broke down in tears before she could finish, he knew what she was trying to say. "It's okay," he murmured, pulling her in for a hug. "We had a good time while it lasted, right?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—" She was practically bawling now, clutching at his neck for balance.

"Don't apologize," he ordered fiercely. "None of this is your fault."

When they separated, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him one last time, tasting the salty bite of tears on his lips and not knowing whether they were his or hers. She wanted to say something—_Thank you for everything_, _I'm sorry_, _I love you_—yet none of it was right, none of it could convey what she was truly feeling.

But Spike didn't seem to mind. "Drive safe," he murmured, squeezing her hand and then gently letting go.

She cried the whole way home.


	42. No More Hiding

**Chapter Forty-Two: No More Hiding**

Even though Keira had told him not to wait up for her, Will couldn't fall asleep after she left. He tried, once, tossing and turning on his bed for nearly two hours before he realized it wasn't going to happen. After an unsuccessful attempt at watching television, he went back to his bedroom and resigned himself to staring at the clock. The numbers seemed to be going in reverse, the red digits searing into his retinas as the minutes dragged on in the apartment's oppressive silence.

A nagging sense of worry pervaded every corner of his mind, becoming more persistent as the quiet deepened. He wished that he had been able to convince her to stay, to comfort Spike over the phone rather than in person. It wasn't a matter of jealousy, not this time: Spike was drunk and distraught, and thus likely capable of doing any number of stupid things. Will hated to imagine Keira being exposed to that volatility, even though God knew she could handle herself better than just about anyone.

He tried not to dwell on his anxiety, but no sooner would he wrest his thoughts away from Keira than they would settle instantly on Lou's death, replaying it over and over until his heart was pounding and the room too claustrophobic. He certainly wasn't as close to Lou—_hadn't been_ as close to Lou, he corrected himself, wiping his sweaty palms on his boxers—as Spike had been; but he'd appreciated the man's dry sense of humor and his perpetual calmness, the yin to Spike's hyperactive yang. And he'd witnessed Lou's bravery in his final moments, heard only the slightest waver in his voice as he assured Spike that everything would be all right. If Will had been in his place—if he'd been the one on that mine, with no hope of getting off of it alive—would he have had the strength to lift his foot, knowing that he would die but his friends wouldn't get killed in a rescue attempt?

And if it had been Keira… He couldn't even finish the thought. His throat burned, his vision blurring as he pictured her body flying through the air and then dropping limply on the ground. Her green eyes, staring blankly up at him, never to sparkle with laughter again…

It took him a while to realize that he was crying, that the wetness trickling gently down his cheeks had morphed into sobs echoing throughout the room. He let the tears flow, even when his chest constricted and he felt like he could barely breathe. He didn't know if they were for Lou or for all the times he had failed to protect Keira, and he gave up on trying to make the distinction.

When he was done, the skin on his palms stiff with salty tears, he wiped his eyes and checked the clock again. It was two-thirty, and he had no way of knowing when Keira would return. He suddenly felt exhausted and leaned back against his pillow, allowing his eyelids to droop. He would keep an eye open, just for when Keira walked in the door…

He awoke to the sound of the shower running, the water echoing through the old pipes. Will blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the numbers on the clock. When they finally registered—a quarter to four—he sat bolt upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed. How could he have missed the keys turning in the lock, the door swinging open? He'd even slept through the creaky floorboards.

It then dawned on him that there was another noise mingling with the water, this one softer and yet distinct. His breath caught in his throat: Keira was sobbing, the noises reaching in and tearing at every level of his gut. She must have thought he was sleeping or that the shower was loud enough to drown her out, because she wasn't trying to temper her cries.

Will hovered at the door, his hand making an involuntary movement towards the knob, and wondered if he should knock or say something to let her know he was there. She obviously wanted privacy—why else would she have waited until she was in the safety of the bathroom?—but he didn't want her to feel as if she had to face this alone, that she had to hide her grief from him.

And then there were other concerns, floating up like a cold breeze that hissed unpleasantly at his neck: was Keira crying over Lou, or something that had happened while she was at Spike's? Had the stress of the day finally won out, or was there something that she was trying to keep from him?

He stayed there longer than he should have, frozen in place, weighing the pros and cons of intruding on her with the anxious indecisiveness of a kid asking a girl out for the first time. At length he decided to back off, to give her some space and let her believe that he was still sleeping. He could always pretend to wake up when she left the bathroom, and then ask her how she was doing.

But although her tears eventually subsided, she remained in the shower for the next half hour. Will, who had at first been relieved when she'd stopped crying, began wishing that something—anything—would break the monotony of the running water: a shampoo bottle clattering onto the tile, a muffled curse as the soap slipped out of her fingers. Yet there was nothing, not even the sound of the water pressure being adjusted.

By four-thirty, he was getting seriously worried about what was happening behind that door. Had she fallen asleep somehow? Was she still crying, only so quietly that he couldn't hear it? Or… he tensed at the thought, every fiber of his being rejecting it because _Keira wouldn't do something like that_, but less than a week ago he'd discovered that there was a lot he didn't know about Keira. If he'd never even guessed at what was going on in her home, how could he have any confidence in his ability to determine what she was doing now, after a day that had pushed them all to their limits?

He was at the bathroom door before he was aware that he'd left his bed. The knock on the wooden frame reverberated throughout the apartment, even though he'd wanted to sound discreet, and his voice seemed too loud as he asked, "Keira? Are you okay?"

He heard nothing but water, pattering steadily onto the floor.

"Keira? Is everything all right in there?" When there was still no response, he knocked again—this time harder, his fist clenched tight with anxiety. "Come on, talk to me. Keira—" He twisted the doorknob, expecting it to be stiff and unyielding in his hands. He was already deliberating the best way to go about breaking down the door when it swung inward, smoothly and silently, offering so little resistance that he actually stumbled forward a few feet.

When he saw Keira curled up in a ball on the shower floor, his first wild thought was that she was dead. Then he realized that she was shaking, that she had tucked her head between her knees and her arms in a desperate attempt to hold herself together. She was folded into the furthest corner of the shower, her back curled into the slick wall, her hair plastered down her sides. Though she must have heard him come in, she didn't look up.

Will faltered beside the sink, held back by the uncomfortable realization that she was completely naked. It didn't feel right for him to invade her privacy like this, even though she could have easily told him to stay outside and instead had chosen not to. But she didn't say a word while he stood there, torn between the chivalric notion that he shouldn't be looking at her and the achingly familiar urge to comfort her.

In the end, he grabbed a towel off the rack and slowly approached, waiting for her to lift her head and make eye contact with him. When she didn't, he sighed and opened the shower door. The only sign that Keira had even noticed his presence was a small shudder that rippled through her when he turned off the water, and another that he felt beneath his hands when he carefully draped the towel around her shoulders.

There was nothing else for him to do but sit down beside her and pray that she wouldn't retreat further into herself.

"Hey," he said softly.

She stirred at the sound of his voice, her fingertips fluttering as she tried to grasp the edges of the towel. Will reached over and tugged at the corners, allowing her to pull them tighter around herself. "Hey," she whispered, barely audible.

"What happened at Spike's?" he asked, because he had known the second he'd opened the bathroom door that this had nothing to do with Lou, that this was something that had hurt her even more than what they'd already gone through today.

Keira mumbled something unintelligible, her voice cracking and rupturing beneath her arms.

"You what?"

She drew in a breath that seemed to take every last ounce of energy she had, then said, "We broke up."

"I'm sorry." And he meant it. As devastated as he had been to discover that they were sleeping with each other, as much as he had wanted to punch Spike in the face for weeks after (and he wasn't proud of the way he'd kept his distance ever since, he should have been more mature than that), it was obvious that Keira cared a lot for the other man. They weren't just sleeping together, the way Spike had tried to play it off; it went deeper than that, maybe not love but something flirting with it. Because for as long as he'd known her, Keira had always held back in her relationships—and Spike was as close to the exception as he'd ever seen anyone get.

"Was it because of Lou?" he asked. His intuition was telling him that there was more to this story, that something irreparable had shattered between the time she had left the apartment and the time she had returned. Spike hadn't asked her to come over because he'd wanted to break up with her; that wasn't what his desperate pleas had been about. He had wanted comfort, and instead—somehow—everything had come undone.

Keira shook her head, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible. "Not exactly," she choked out.

"So what was it?"

Keira started trembling again, a leaf about to be blown away by the wind. "H-He didn't know what he was doing…"

The fact that she was saying it like a preemptive excuse, a few steps away from _It's not as bad as it sounds_, only put Will on his guard even more. "What did he do?" he asked warily.

Instead of answering, Keira's breath came fast and shallow at her knees.

"He didn't—Keira, did he hit you?"

She shook her head a second time, wiping at her eyes with the corners of the towel.

The next scenario that entered Will's mind was so devastating that he almost couldn't bring himself to utter it aloud. "Did he pressure you into—did he make you—"

"He didn't make me," she whispered. Will had to lean in closer to hear her, because she still hadn't raised her head from her knees. "He… He was so drunk, and I felt bad for him… H-He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't mean to…"

"He didn't mean to what?" Will probed when she trailed off.

"A-All I could think of… w-was how much it felt like…" And then Keira began to cry, her shoulders shaking so violently that the towel nearly slipped off. Maybe it was because they were in such close quarters, or because the noises were echoing off the walls, but Will was taken aback by how overwhelmed she seemed. This wasn't the same crying he had heard half an hour ago; this was worse, a thousand times worse, and he had no idea what was wrong.

When he tentatively put his arm around her, taking care not to dislodge the towel, her sobs increased. She tried to say something, but her words were drowned out by horrendous gasps that made him afraid she was going to start choking.

"Hey, it's okay," he tried to comfort her. "You don't have to explain anything—"

She vehemently shook her head, surprising him, and made a desperate attempt to rein herself in under control. "I-I can't… I can't…" she said over and over, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch.

"You can't what?" he murmured.

When she was finally able to finish the sentence, it was so subdued that Will almost had to ask her to say it again. "I can't keep doing this anymore."

"Seeing Spike?"

"No!" Frustrated, she finally raised her head. Will had known from experience that her eyes always became greener when she was crying, but he wasn't prepared for how bright they were shining now. Red-rimmed, eyelashes sticking together, beautiful and terrible at the same time; they froze him in place, several seconds passing before he realized he was holding his breath. "I can't keep lying to you," she whispered, her lips trembling.

Will was taken aback. "Lying to me?" he echoed. It would never have crossed his mind that Keira was still keeping the truth from him, not after all that she'd already revealed about their past—all the years he'd been so blind to what was happening in her home, and she'd given him twenty-twenty in hindsight vision. He felt his stomach contracting uneasily. "How are you lying to me?"

Keira opened her mouth, then gave a strangled moan and closed it; whatever battle was raging inside of her, it looked as if she were on the verge of losing. Will squeezed her shoulder in a silent reminder that she didn't have to fight alone, that he was there for her no matter what.

When she finally spoke, he barely recognized her voice. "Jim…" She broke off, grimaced, then took the plunge that he would later consider one of the bravest things she had ever done. "Jim raped me."

If the floor had been yanked out from under him in that moment, Will didn't think he would have felt half as stunned as he did now; nor would his stomach have curled up in so many knots, nausea crawling up his chest until he thought he would be sick. "He—Jim—what?" he asked, dimly aware that he wasn't making any sense, that approximations of horror and disgust were spilling uncontrollably out of his mouth. "When? How?"

He had the sudden, terrifying thought that Jim had been molesting Keira ever since she was a child, that she was being raped the entire time Will had known her…

Keira seemed to guess what he was thinking. "He waited until I was legal," she said, a bitter smile twisting her features. "I guess I should be grateful, right?" Will could only stare at her. "H-He started… He started making all these excuses to touch me after I turned fourteen. Whenever my mom wasn't around, he'd corner me in the hallway or the kitchen and…" She rubbed angrily at her eyes, which had started glimmering again. "If I tried to fight back, he wouldn't let me talk to Jason on the phone. One time I told him to go fuck himself, and that's why I couldn't go with you on your vacation to Kelowna."

Will remembered how excited he'd been for that trip freshman year, how he couldn't wait to get to the cottage his family had rented for a couple of weeks. He had planned everything out: he and Keira were going to play several vicious rounds of mini-golf, sneak out to Lake Okanagan at night, and generally make nuisances of themselves while his parents enjoyed more sedated activities. And then, on the morning of their departure, his mother had broken the news.

"_That_ was why?" he asked, his voice filled with revulsion. "My God—Keira—I'm so sorry—"

"He started making me strip for him," Keira continued woodenly. "I had to take off my clothes, and then he'd use the belt on me while I was in my underwear. That was when I knew… That was when I knew it was only a matter of time before he raped me."

Part of Will wanted to tell her to stop, because he honestly thought he was going to be sick if she kept going, but he immediately felt ashamed of himself for his reaction. Keira was the one who had survived this nightmare; all he had to do was listen.

"Do you remember Doug?" she asked softly.

"Doug?" Will blinked; Keira's first boyfriend was about the furthest thing from his mind right now. "Yeah, of course I…" He trailed off, the last pieces of the puzzle falling into place. _You know she wasn't even interested in him, right?_ Jess's voice rang in his ears._ She just did it because she wanted to lose her virginity._ "Oh my God… Keira, did you sleep with him because…"

"Because I didn't want Jim to be my first? Yeah." Keira gave up on wiping her eyes and simply let the tears fall. "Th-That was why I was s-so angry with you when you told me I shouldn't have done it b-because he loved me, and why I slapped you when you called me a slut…"

Even before today, the memory of that argument had been a long-standing source of shame for Will. It was the most despicable thing he had ever done to Keira, and knowing the full story made it a hundred times worse. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, filled with self-loathing. "I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to take that back…"

"You didn't know." Keira gave him a teary, yet reassuring smile. "And you've more than made up for it since."

There was a moment of silence between them; after, Will asked, "And Jim? When did he… When did he start…?"

"My fifteenth birthday," Keira said hollowly.

Her words were like several successive punches to the stomach, leaving him struggling for air. "Was that… Was that the night you said you got into an awful argument with your parents?" He remembered like it was yesterday, how he'd thought she was a burglar when she started pounding frantically at his window; the way his bewilderment had turned into panic when she flung herself into his arms and burst into tears; and all the questions he'd quickly learned to bury in some far-off corner of his mind, because his best friend wasn't in any state to receive an interrogation.

And there had been so many nights after that one, though she had never cried as much as the first time. Instead, she would tremble uncontrollably, her thin frame vibrating against his until he was afraid that she wouldn't be able to stop. Then, one by one, her muscles would relax, the tactile prelude to her falling asleep. The next morning, she would give him a grateful smile and then pretend that nothing had happened.

Keira swallowed and said, "Every time I slept over your house, from freshman year until junior year… That was why. Because he'd just… Because I needed to get out of my room."

Will hadn't thought it was possible to feel worse than he already did, but now he knew better. "Keira… Jesus Christ, that had to have been at least once a week—"

"Yeah." Keira's lips quivered around the word, and she tried to cover it up by wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Probably the highlight of his week."

"Keira—"

"I don't think I ever really thanked you for letting me stay over so many times," Keira said abruptly.

"You don't have to."

"But I—"

"I don't want you to," Will clarified. Seeing Keira's expression fluctuate between confused and hurt, he added, "You don't owe me anything. And you weren't inconveniencing me—"

"You're lying."

"I'm not," Will insisted. "Look, I'm sure there were nights where I didn't get enough sleep before a test or something, but none of that matters. Seriously. I just wish I could have done more. If I had known, I would have…" He trailed off, having been about to say _beat the living hell out of that jackass_. But suddenly he realized that someone had already beaten him to the punch, both figuratively and literally…

"That was why Jason was arrested," he said slowly. "Because he found out what Jim was doing."

Keira nodded. "I finally told him junior year. I couldn't take it anymore, Jim was getting worse and worse… He'd started using the belt on me before he raped me, it was so fucked up." For a moment, he thought she was going to vomit; then she shuddered, making a monumental effort to pull herself together. "I've never seen Jason so angry," she whispered. "I honestly thought he was going to kill Jim. Sometimes I think he might have, if our mom hadn't called the police."

Will's eyes widened. "She was the one who called the police?"

"Yeah, funny how she never managed to pick up the phone before," Keira said, her voice twisting with hatred. "That fucking piece of shit. I _told _her that he was raping me. I told her the week it started, and you know what she did?" When Will shook his head, she snarled, "She said I was lying. She said I was lying, and then she told him everything. He beat me so badly that I couldn't go to school the next day, and then he raped me that night just because he could. Because he knew my mom wasn't going to do anything about it."

Will stared at her, aghast. All those times he'd wondered why Keira was so rude to her mother, and had even tried to defend Mrs. Richardson; just a month ago, in fact, he'd accused Keira of being too harsh on her. No wonder she had snapped at him then, like she used to when they were younger. He couldn't imagine how much bravery it would have taken a fifteen-year-old to tell her mother that she was being raped by her stepfather—and then how devastating it would have been to realize that the one person who should have been unquestionably in her corner didn't even believe her.

"I hate her," Keira choked out, her face growing steadily darker. "I hate her so fucking much. And she has the nerve to try to come back into my life and then act upset when I want nothing to do with her?" Her arms shook, she was gripping the towel so hard. "I want to fucking kill her, you have no idea how much I think about it… What kind of person doesn't believe their own goddamn child?"

He had no idea how to respond to that. This was worse than anything he'd ever had to deal with as far as Keira was concerned; he was completely out of his league, and terrified of making a misstep. Should he listen quietly, or attempt to offer some words of comfort? Could he give her a hug, or would she push him away in her anger?

Before he had time to decide, Keira solved the problem for him. "Can we…" She gestured towards the shower door. "I just… I feel like I can't breathe in here…"

"Of course." With some difficulty, Will helped her to her feet; he had to keep a firm grip on her shoulders, in case the towel started slipping.

"I'm sorry, your shorts are all wet—"

"Don't worry about it." He'd barely even noticed the water seeping in through the fabric. "Come on, let's—what is that?"

There was a rust-colored stain on the shower floor, slowly spreading out from where Keira had been sitting. She glanced down at it, and stiffened; both of them stood there, frozen in place, while the blood began creeping inexorably towards the drain.

Will wished he had never spoken. Mortified, he asked, "Do you want me to go and pick up some pads or something?"

"I'm not on my period." Keira's cheeks had gone pale, and she wouldn't meet his gaze. "It's from… It's from Spike's."

"It's from—are you fucking kidding me?"

Keira flinched. "I'm sorry, I'll clean it up—"

"No, forget about that." Will gently caught her arm when she reached for the showerhead. "What do you mean, 'it's from Spike's'? He did that to you?"

"He didn't mean to," Keira whispered. "He was drunk."

"That's not an excuse," Will said in disgust. Until a few seconds ago, he had forgotten all about Spike; now, his past hatred towards the man was resurging with a vengeance. "He raped you—"

"He didn't."

"Keira, you've been bleeding since—"

"He didn't rape me!" She wrenched out of his grasp and glared at him, her eyes flashing in defiance—but it was a wavering defiance, a hastily-constructed wall that would crumble under the slightest amount of pressure. "I didn't say anything to him. He didn't know he was hurting me. I just lay there and—and let him—I didn't want to…" She gave up trying to explain and shoved past him, yanking her clothes off of the counter.

Will caught up with her just in time to see a bloody scrap of fabric fall onto the ground. It was her underwear, or what was left of it.

"Let me take you to the hospital."

"No."

"Keira—"

"I said no!" Keira yanked her underwear up off of the floor and flung it into the trash, where it stood out hideously against a pile of white tissues. "I don't want to go to the fucking hospital, I just want—" She broke off, trying to collect herself. When she spoke again, her voice was so small and fragile that she could have asked him to do anything, anything in the world, and he would have done it. "I just want to stay with you tonight. Please."

And there was no way in hell he could have refused her after that.

"Okay," he said, trying not to look at the wastebasket. "I'll go get you some clothes."

Her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you."

Will left the bathroom and almost retrieved Keira's duffel bag, before thinking better of it and entering his bedroom instead. Keira's idea of sleeping attire seemed to consist of long-sleeved shirts and shorts that even she wouldn't dare wear out in public, but he had a feeling that that wasn't going to be the case tonight. Opening his drawers, he found his smallest pair of sweatpants and an old hockey shirt. After a moment's consideration, he dug out a sweatshirt he'd had since high school—one that Keira herself had worn on numerous occasions—and added it to the pile.

He wound up going through Keira's duffel bag anyway, searching for clean underwear and a pad to absorb the blood. By the time he returned to the bathroom, Keira was swaying on her feet.

"You okay?" he asked, alarmed.

"Just tired." She looked in surprise at the clothes he was holding out, but took them without comment. After thanking him, she hesitated. "Will?"

"Mm?"

Keira hugged the clothes to her chest, as if she wanted to hide behind them. "Do you think… Could you sleep with me tonight?"

Will understood exactly what she meant, but that didn't stop his misgivings from rearing their ugly heads.

"I know… I know, work and all that," Keira said quickly. His uneasiness hadn't escaped her notice. "But…"

"It's okay." Will gave in, just like he'd known he would; and it was worth it to see the way relief spread through her shoulders, dispersing some of the tension that had accumulated in her muscles. "We can use my bed."

She didn't need to thank him—he could see it in her eyes—but she did anyway. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd survive," Will said honestly. Leaning against the door frame, he added, "You've already done it."

She appeared to be considering his words. "Surviving's not all it's cracked up to be," she finally replied, exhaling. "Those were the longest ten years of my life. I don't think I could go through that again."

Will wished he could promise her that she wouldn't have to, that he would always be there for her—but how could he, after today? Lou's death was a brutal reminder that there were no guarantees, that none of them were invincible. That was the nature of their job; you never knew when things would spiral out of control, when something would go horribly wrong and you'd find yourself wishing you'd had a chance to say goodbye.

He could tell that she knew where his thoughts had gone, and that she didn't need him to say anything. She gave him a soft smile, and he nodded back; then he slipped out of the bathroom to give her privacy. While she was changing, he went into his bedroom and discarded his wet clothes, replacing them with a dry t-shirt and pajama pants that he rarely used—but would tonight, for Keira's sake. He then went into the kitchen and got a glass of water, draining it in one long swallow.

His mind was spinning frantically, trying to sort out the chaos of the last half hour. Keira's confessions had stripped away the rose-colored veneer of his childhood memories, replacing it with something dark and ugly that he would never fully be able to understand. He, after all, had been raised in a loving, caring family, while his best friend had been afraid to sleep in her own bedroom. The guilt was overwhelming.

And always, always, it came back to this: how had he not noticed? Why hadn't he probed deeper? How did Keira not hate him for being so oblivious?

"Will?"

Keira appeared in the doorway, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight she made. His sweatpants were so big on her that they were barely hanging onto her hips, even though she'd tightened the drawstring all the way. She was drowning in the sweatshirt, too, one side slipping off of her shoulder and both sleeves completely engulfing her hands. And yet, somehow, she still managed to look better in his clothes than he did.

"You ready to go to bed?" she inquired, shifting her weight onto her toes. She quickly rocked back, but not before he saw the flash of nervousness in her eyes.

He put his glass in the sink and said, "Let's go."

Neither of them spoke as they walked to his bedroom. Will could feel her shivering against him, faint ripples of movement that spread from her body to his—drawing them together, drawing him further into her. There was no going back from this; he could no longer see the lines he'd crossed for Keira, would have no idea how to start retracing his steps. And this time, he was done trying.

So when Keira claimed the right side of his bed, he moved to the left as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "How do you want to do this?" he asked when they were both under the covers, the sheets warm between their bodies.

She shifted, propping her head up on her elbow and looking at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Will was glad they had already turned the lights off, which meant that she couldn't see him flushing. "We used to… kind of, um, cuddle, I guess. I just don't know if you'd want to do that right—"

She curled up into a ball beside him, resting her head in the crook of his arm. "Does that answer your question?"

"You're going to be boiling hot."

He could feel her shrugging. "So I'll take off my sweatshirt."

"_My_ sweatshirt," he corrected her with a grin.

"Not for long." She was just teasing him, but Will suspected that the familiar refrain of "you keep it" would work its way back into his vernacular sooner or later.

And since he had no real objections to her wearing his clothes, he settled for rolling his eyes—which she couldn't see, anyway—and pulling her closer. The room grew quieter, and the day's exhaustion slowly crept up on him. His mind had finally given up on trying to process what it had recently learned and was telling him to _put it off until morning_, _stop thinking about it for now_, _just focus on Keira_. He listened for her breathing, its gentle cadence lulling him into a pleasant state of relaxation that was completely contradictory to the past twenty-four hours. Keira's muscles were loosening as well; she was gradually settling into his embrace, her body no longer trembling.

Just when they were both on the verge of falling asleep, she whispered his name. Checking to see if he was still awake.

"Yeah?" he murmured, opening his eyes.

A soft, pale grey light was filtering in around the edges of the window shades. Dawn was approaching; and with it his ability to see Keira, whose gaze was locked on a point somewhere below his face. After a moment, she swallowed and said, "Those guys I slept with in high school… they didn't really mean anything. You know that, right?"

Will caught the thread of the conversation and puzzled over it, wondering where it had come from and where Keira was going with it. She'd made it clear in high school that she wasn't going to drop everything in her life for a guy, that just because she was sleeping with someone it didn't mean that she loved them or even particularly liked them. It was something he'd always known, if not understood.

His silence propelled her to say, "It's just… You're probably thinking I did it because of Jim. Like—like I'm one of those statistics about sexual abuse victims who become promiscuous afterwards. But I'm not. I mean, kind of, but—" She broke off with a frustrated grimace. "Shit. That's not what I mean. What I mean is, I slept with those guys because I didn't want to associate sex with Jim. I didn't want him to ruin my life even more than he already had. So I thought that… that if I could enjoy it, it'd be like a fuck-you to him, because he couldn't take that away from me. So that's why I went after all of those guys. It wasn't about them. It was about me." She finished in a rush, slightly breathless from the exertion, scrutinizing his expression for any sign of change.

"Keira—"

"And I'm not trying to say that I regret doing it," she barreled on, wincing at the sound of his voice, "or that I had a miserable time with all of them. You know I dumped the ones that sucked." Will couldn't help but smile at that. "I guess… I guess what I'm saying is that things might have been different, if Jim hadn't… if he hadn't raped me. I'd be different."

"You don't have to justify your relationships," Will told her. He felt all too conscious of the way her eyes kept searching his, as if looking for approval. "You don't owe me an explanation. Or anyone, for that matter—"

"I know I don't," Keira interjected softly. "But I could tell it bothered you, even though you didn't say anything after Doug. And that meant a lot to me. So… I just wanted to tell you the truth."

"Why?" was the only word he could manage.

"Because I don't want to hide anything from you anymore."

And then Keira leaned forward and kissed him, her lips brushing so gently against his that he could almost have been imagining it.


	43. A Fresh Start

**A/N:** Well, we're almost at the end: this is the second-to-last chapter of Breathe. I'm saying this now because the story technically wraps up this chapter, but there is an epilogue that I'll be uploading next week - so don't worry, it's not quite over yet. Once the epilogue is up, I will also be posting a short prequel that I wrote (which Spike/Keira fans will appreciate, as well as people like myself who have a hard time letting go of certain characters!). So stay tuned, etc.

I hope you enjoy these last two chapters!

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><p><strong>Chapter Forty-Three: A Fresh Start<strong>

Almost a week had passed since Lou's death. The atmosphere at the SRU was somber, with Spike barely speaking to anyone and the others unable to shake a renewed sense of mortality. The job had always been dangerous, none of them had been oblivious to the risks; yet now they couldn't help but wonder if they, too, were one wrong move away from losing everything and everyone they loved. They all second-guessed themselves then, even if they didn't show it, and later—much later—Keira admitted to Will that she had finally sat down and written out her last will and testament.

"I never wanted to do one before," she said with a shudder, "but…"

Emotions were running high, tensions simmered beneath sidelong glances and unspoken words. When Greg alluded to the eventuality of finding a replacement for Lou—though he didn't say it like that, phrasing it instead as "a new addition to the team"—Spike abruptly stood up and walked out of the briefing room. In the silence that followed, Will saw Keira shift in her seat as if she were thinking of pursuing him; but then she sighed, and sank back into her chair, and the moment was lost.

Mindful of the mood, Will initially put off his long-overdue conversation with Greg, but he knew he couldn't keep tabling the issue. Soon, it was two weeks to the day since Greg had asked Will to decide between Keira and his position on the team—although it had never really been a choice, and in the end it was surprisingly easy to pull the sergeant aside and tell him that he was handing in his resignation.

Greg looked at him for a long moment. "Thank you for being honest with me, Will," he said at length, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly—as if he were exhausted, the events of the past month finally starting to catch up to him. "You've done great work here, and I'll be sorry to see you go. But at least you'll be in good hands."

"Sir?" Will frowned, wondering if Greg was referring to Keira or something else he wasn't getting.

"Just a minute." Greg took out his cell phone and selected a contact. "Hey, Donna," he said a few seconds later. "How's it going?"

Will could hear Donna's voice through the phone, though it was impossible to distinguish individual words. Nevertheless, his spirits lifted a little, and he reminded himself to give his former teammate a call soon. He'd missed working with her on a daily basis, and it had been great to see her again during that brief period of collaboration between Teams One and Three. Even Keira had warmed up to her, which spoke volumes about Donna's character.

"Glad to hear it," Greg was saying. "Anyway, I take it you still haven't had any luck filling that empty spot on Team Three?"

Will froze, hardly daring to believe he'd heard Greg correctly.

"Yeah, I figured." Greg glanced over at Will, and then—to Will's astonishment—he smiled. "Well, that's actually good news, because I've got someone I want to send your way."

When Greg hung up the phone, Will began, "Boss, I…" Yet he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"I had a feeling you were going to be leaving us," Greg replied, "so I took the liberty of writing up a letter of recommendation for you. You'll have to try out like everyone else, but Donna'll put in a good word for you."

Will was so overwhelmed he could barely think straight, let alone come up with a coherent response. "Thank you, boss, I—I don't know how to—"

"Just keep doing what you've been doing," Greg told him. "You're a great officer, Will, and it's been a pleasure to work with you." He began heading for the door, coffee in hand, ready to start the morning—but then he stopped, turned back to Will, and added, "Just so you know, dating someone on another team isn't encouraged… but it's not against the rules, either."

Will stared at him for a moment; then he grinned so broadly his cheeks hurt.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

* * *

><p>Slowly but surely, things started to get better at the SRU. Spike no longer flinched every time they got a hot call; and Keira had seen him, grim-faced yet determined, taking Babycakes out on a test run. She spoke briefly with him when their paths crossed, reminding him that she was there if he wanted to talk, but he never took her up on those offers and she didn't press the issue.<p>

In truth, she needed her space from him as well. She hated thinking about their last moments together, because nothing from that night bore any resemblance to what their relationship had been. But now, whenever she looked at Spike, she saw two sides of him: the man she loved, and the stranger who had hurt her. Even though she knew that stranger wasn't really Spike, it was harder to forget him than she would have liked.

But Will… Will made it bearable. Every night after they got off work, they went back to his apartment and had dinner—either making it together or, if they were too tired, simply ordering in and crashing in front of the TV. Being able to unwind with him at the end of the day was more relaxing than any massage, and she was happier than she'd been in a long time.

Well, maybe it was a stretch to say that she was truly happy. Her mother was still living with Jason, and therefore had access to Brian; but there wasn't anything Keira could do about that, other than regularly check in with her nephew on the phone. On Sunday, she and Will had taken him to Wonderland, an amusement park in Vaughan, where they'd let him have the run of the children's sections. Brian had been thrilled to go on all the rides (some multiple times), and she'd been able to find a quiet moment to explain to him that, no matter how far away she was from home, she would always love him and that would never change.

Brian seemed relieved by that; he'd obviously picked up on the tension between Keira and her mother, judging by the worried glances he gave her whenever he mentioned Diane. Yet Keira was determined not to let her resentment of her mother show—it wasn't fair to Brian, and she knew all too well what it was like to be a child caught in the middle of adults' conflicts. So even as her blood boiled at the sound of Diane's name, she'd smiled and pretended to enjoy Brian's stories of his grandmother.

And all the while, Will had been at her side.

"Hey, everyone."

Keira glanced up from the screen of the stationary bike she'd commandeered. No calls had come in that afternoon, so the team had been exercising for the past hour—except Greg, who had been catching up on some paperwork and was just now getting to the gym. "Meeting in the briefing room in five?" he asked, looking around to see if everyone was at a good stopping place.

There was a general murmur of assent. "Wonder what that's about," Keira said quietly to Will, who was nearby stretching his legs (or attempting to, anyway—flexibility had never been his strong suit).

Will wasn't looking at her when he muttered back, "Not sure."

Keira was still wondering about his sudden shiftiness when they filed into the briefing room. Now that she thought about it, he'd been acting strange all day. During their lunch break, she'd asked him when he was getting his test results back from the doctor's office—he'd taken a day off last week to get some routine blood work done, figuring it was better to be safe and go home afterwards rather than risk getting dizzy on the job. Will had stared blankly at her, as if he had no idea what she was talking about, and she'd had to prompt him several times before receiving a response.

Once they were all seated in the briefing room, Greg and Ed gave their usual rundown of the day's events, discussing training exercises where the team had excelled and areas where they could still use some improvement. However, it was clear that this wasn't the reason for the impromptu meeting—and eventually, Ed sat back down while Greg clasped his hands together and looked around at the others.

"So," he said, his eyes briefly resting on Keira, "as you may have guessed, I have an announcement to make. As of next week, Will is going to be leaving Team One—but not the SRU, because he'll be joining Donna on Team Three." A surprised mutter rippled through the room. Keira barely heard the others over the blood roaring in her ears; but Will, the only person who could assure her that this was just a mistake, a terrible mistake, wasn't even looking at her. "We'll be sorry to see him go," Greg continued, "but we're looking forward to beating him in some friendly inter-team competition."

"Why Team Three?" Wordy inquired, his brow furrowed.

"A spot opened up"—Will was still avoiding Keira's gaze—"and Donna and I have always worked well together, so—"

Without thinking, Keira snapped, "Bullshit."

The room went quiet as Will tensed. When he finally looked at her, she saw that the tips of his ears were red, and his jaw was clenched in an effort to hold back his retort. Part of her immediately regretted speaking out—she should have at least waited until they were alone, to avoid a confrontation with the entire team as their audience—but another part of her felt too betrayed to care.

"You could have said something," she told him, practically shaking with anger. "You could have mentioned this at some point, maybe when we spent the entire fucking day at the amusement park yester—"

"Keira!"

She knew at once that she'd gone too far. Will was normally so calm, so easygoing, that on the rare occasion he raised his voice she paid attention. Even now, he said nothing further, obviously wanting to avoid an argument—but it was clear that she'd struck a nerve, and continuing to berate him in front of the others would only make things worse.

She bit her lip, tasting blood, and blinked back the tears that were threatening to form. She almost didn't know what was worse: the realization that Will was abandoning her, or the weight of her coworkers' embarrassed stares.

"Excuse me," she said curtly, pushing her chair back. Walking out on the group was juvenile, to say the least—but she couldn't bring herself to stick around and have a celebratory drink, or whatever it was they did when someone moved on to another career, pretending everything was fine when in reality nothing was.

Why hadn't Will told her? They lived together, worked together, had barely spent any time apart from each other in the past couple of weeks—so why had she been completely blindsided, forced to hear about his transfer from their boss? As if she hadn't been worth confiding in, as if he hadn't wanted her to find out until it was too late for her to do anything about it. But why? Why was he so determined to leave Team One? His half-assed explanation didn't make any sense.

_Fuck you, Will McKnight,_ she thought, knowing full well that she didn't mean it.

"Keira, are you okay?"

She glanced up and saw Winnie watching her from the dispatcher's station, her gaze narrowed in concern. That was when she realized she was pale and trembling, her eyes brimming with silent tears. "I'm fine," she muttered, embarrassed by her weakness. She moved on quickly before Winnie could reply, at first heading in the direction of the locker rooms but then deciding against it. That would be too obvious, anyone could track her down there…

"Keira!"

She could have outrun Will if she'd wanted to, but it would only be a brief respite until they had to return to the same apartment. Instead she whirled around, faced him head-on, and said the only thing that came to mind:

"You lied to me."

"I can explain—"

"That 'doctor's appointment'?" she demanded, remembering something. "Those 'tests' you said you had? That was when you tried out for Team Three, wasn't it?"

Will nodded. He tried to say something else but she barreled on, not ready to hear his excuses, only wanting to vent her anger and hurt until she ran out of breath. "And you couldn't have told me? What the hell, Will?" Her voice cracked on his name, and she was mortified when her cheeks turned wet. He stepped closer, reaching out as if to take her by the shoulders, but she wrenched away. "So now what, I'm just never going to see you again? It's not like we work out with Team Three at all. You're on a completely different schedule. So you'll be with your team and I'll be with mine, and that's it?"

There was a strange look in Will's eyes as he murmured, "I'm not trying to cut you out of my life, Keira."

"Well, it sure sounds like you are," she retorted, hating the fact that she was crying, hating the effect he was having on her. "Why would you even want to leave? You're one of the best officers we—"

Will suddenly leaned in and kissed her, catching her tears with his warm, gentle lips. Keira froze in shock, her mind scrambling to figure out what was happening, tempted to forget everything and yield to his touch… before she recalled what they had been arguing about seconds before. With a muffled gasp, she pushed him away. "Don't!" she cried, struggling to regain control of herself. Will looked stunned: either he hadn't known he was going to kiss her, or he hadn't expected her reaction. "You don't get to do that—you can't just kiss me and think it'll make—it'll make everything go away…"

Her words faded into the space between them, evaporating under the heat of his gaze, until at last she thought she understood what he was trying to tell her.

"Oh, fuck it," she finally said.

She drew him back to her and kissed him, properly this time, nearly crying when their lips met. This was what she had wanted for a more than a decade, what she had denied herself for so long… but she didn't care anymore, not about her teammates' reactions or SRU protocol or any goddamn thing that wasn't Will.

"I love you," she said when they separated, gasping for air—or maybe he was the one who had said it, or both of them in unison.

Will kissed her again, tightening his hold on her as if he had no intention of ever letting go. "I'm not leaving you," he murmured. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and that's why I can't work with you anymore. Because I would break the priority of life code for you in a heartbeat."

Keira found herself smiling through her tears. "Did you rehearse that?"

Someone other than Will might have been offended; but then, Will knew her better than anyone. "I didn't," he replied, chuckling, "but it was kind of cheesy, wasn't it."

She shook her head, already pulling him in for another kiss. "Actually, that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

Keira had spent years haunted by the past, paying for all the mistakes she'd made. But now, with Will in her arms, she had a feeling that those days were coming to an end—and better, happier ones were just beginning.

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><p><strong>AN:** Finally! Took them long enough. ;) Anyway, I'll see you guys next week... Until then!


	44. Epilogue

**Chapter Forty-Four: Epilogue**

When Spike walked into work, the first thing he heard was laughter.

Following the sound, he came across Keira and Winnie chatting at the front desk. "Yeah, art students are a whole different breed," Winnie was saying. Spike noticed that she'd straightened her hair, which looked very nice, and touched up her lips with something that shimmered when she talked. "Don't come in between them and their portfolios. Literally. I found that out the hard way on the bus once…"

Keira winced, then waved when she saw Spike. "Nice shirt."

"Only real men wear pink," Spike quipped, joining them at the desk. "Why are we ragging on art students?"

"I got a call from Alice last night," Keira explained. "She's almost done with her first semester at OCAD, and she loves it. She said all of her professors are amazing, and apparently one of them recommended her for an internship next summer. Oh, and she has a boyfriend."

"Oh, wow, that's awesome. And all because of you," Spike said, reaching over to high-five her.

Keira blushed as she high-fived him back. "I just helped with the first step. Alice did everything else," she protested; but she couldn't stop grinning, and Spike had been on the job long enough to know that it was impossible not to feel good when you saw the difference you were making in others' lives.

"Speaking of boyfriends," Winnie said, glancing at Keira, "I saw yours getting his ass kicked yesterday by Donna."

Keira laughed, not offended in the slightest. "Yeah, she's been making him do all these sparring drills because she knows it's his weak spot. And he's definitely getting better at it. But last night… let's just say it was a massage night."

Spike snorted: Keira's tone had left little doubt as to what kind of massage she meant. "So all's well in paradise?" he asked.

And yeah, it was strange, talking to her about Will. Not because she had moved on, but because Will hadn't—not when it came to Spike, anyway. Will had never forgiven him for what he'd done to Keira on their last night together, and he knew that on the rare occasion their paths crossed his presence was only being tolerated for her sake. He didn't expect things would change anytime soon, and to be honest he preferred the status quo as a reminder: he deserved every bit of Will's censure, and then some.

"All's well," Keira reported, her cheeks reddening with pleasure. "Our six-month's coming up, so we're going back to the place where we had our first date. Well, not our first date ever, but our first date this time around. I can't believe it's been half a year—I don't know if I've even processed it yet, I just feel so… God, sorry, I'm rambling."

Spike and Winnie exchanged amused glances. "No, go ahead, say whatever you want," Spike encouraged her.

"Lucky," Keira finished after a pause, and Spike didn't think she'd realized how soft her voice had become. "I feel really lucky."

If someone had told him less than a year ago that he would witness Keira confiding in her coworkers to such a degree, he might have advised them to check their medication for hallucinogenic side effects. But over the past few months, she'd become a different person—or rather, the Keira he'd only witnessed in rare, unguarded moments had emerged in full force, now that she no longer had to keep everyone at a distance. And there was no doubt in Spike's mind that the change was entirely due to Will.

For the most part, he didn't believe in soul mates. There were so many people in the world that you were bound to be perfectly happy with hundreds of them; it was statistics, plain and simple. Yet somehow there was no one else who could make Will's eyes light up the way they did whenever Keira walked into the room, no one else who could make Keira smile without any reservations. She had never looked at Spike like that—though, oddly enough, he didn't really mind.

In fact, it was hard to feel regret when he saw the two of them together. They balanced each other out perfectly, seemingly picking up right where they'd left off a decade before. Keira often relied on Will as her social wingman, staying at his side during unfamiliar situations where his conversational skills smoothed over her diffidence. Yet when they were alone, or with a group of close friends—that was when she brought something out of him, setting a spark to his laidback personality. She challenged him in all the right ways, and he in turn had gradually dismantled her defenses.

Which wasn't to say that things were perfect, or that the past had been forgotten. Spike knew that Keira was still refusing to speak with her mother, which occasionally put a strain on her relationships with Jason and Brian. He also knew that Greg had tried to address the issue numerous times, with disastrous failure the singular result. According to Keira, however, Will had never pressured her into making amends.

"He's actually been kind of amazing about this whole shitfest," she'd once told Spike. "He's the only person who hasn't been trying to get me to talk to her."

Spike had refrained from comment. He suspected that Will would have supported a reconciliation if Keira wanted one, but had learned to pick his battles—or, more accurately, his sides.

It was soon time for Spike and Keira to say goodbye to Winnie and head towards the locker rooms; there they split off, with Keira going to join Jules (Leah had recently left the team to deal with a family emergency, bringing a mercifully quick end to her tenure as Lou's replacement) and Spike meeting up with the guys. From there, the rest of the day passed in a blur of drills and workouts, with Spike taking care to participate in every round of banter. He knew Greg was still keeping an eye on him after Lou, and he was determined not to give his boss any cause for concern. So he laughed and talked and cracked jokes, and he put one hundred percent into his workouts, and above all he didn't linger in front of the memorial plaque on Lou's locker.

But at the end of the shift, when the team went their separate ways, Spike got into his car alone and felt his energy promptly dissipate, as though he'd had just enough to make it through the day and not an ounce more. Melancholy settled in as he navigated the dark roads, thinking about where his coworkers' commutes were taking them: Ed and Wordy to their families, Sam and Jules to whomever they were using to keep their minds off of each other, Keira to Will. Even Greg had plans for the night, though he'd been vague as to their substance.

And here he was, going back to his parents' house for a quiet dinner and a restless attempt at sleep. The exact same thing he'd done for the past six months, barring the nights he'd worked overtime. He hadn't realized how dependent his social life was on Lou and Keira, until in a single stroke he'd lost them both.

Lou's death was by far the worst. At least Spike could still see Keira, even if he couldn't really hang out with her anymore; but Lou was gone, and all Spike had were memories, and nightmares, and thousands of things he would remind himself to tell Lou about before realizing that he couldn't. It didn't seem possible for it to hurt as much as it did, but whenever he thought about Lou something broke inside of him and all he could hear was the landmine going off. Those were the moments when he forgot how to breathe, when he was afraid that he would never be sane again.

Greg had tried to get him into therapy, and had even gone so far as to schedule a series of appointments with Dr. Luria, but the idea of talking to someone about Lou made him sick to his stomach. So he hadn't attended a single session, and little by little he'd trained himself not to think about his best friend, until these days he could almost pretend everything was back to normal.

All the same, he felt immeasurably lonely, and he wished he could have had Keira at his side to help with the worst of it. But he'd fucked up, colossally, and he would have had no right to ask her to stay. Besides, she'd found happiness with Will, and he didn't begrudge her that for a second. It was just hard sometimes, like when he was playing Nintendo by himself and he imagined her sitting there next to him, her brow furrowed as she manipulated the controls—or when he felt the urge to text her late at night, before remembering that she was home with Will.

Needless to say, it hadn't been the greatest year. And as he pulled into his parents' driveway, his mood dipped even lower at the sight of all the Christmas decorations. He and Lou had always brought each other to their families' holiday gatherings—but there would be no extra place setting at the Scarlattis' this year, and Spike had politely declined the Youngs' standing invitation. He intended to spend his first Christmas without Lou drowning his sorrows in Nintendo or alcohol or both.

When he walked into the kitchen, his mother was at the stove, stirring a jar of homemade sauce into one of her trademark pasta dishes. "Hi, Mikey," she said, giving him a quick, scrutinizing look. He'd been getting a lot of those in the past few months. "Tough day at work?"

"The usual." He sat down at the table, just like he had when he was a little kid coming home from school, chattering happily away while his mother supplied him with a steady stream of snacks. Now those days seemed like they were part of someone else's life, and his shoulders were slumped as he debated how to respond without troubling her. "Just tired."

Not fooled for a second, his mother tsk-tsked at him. "You need to get out more," she said, reducing the heat on the stove to a simmering temperature. The pasta no longer requiring her attention, she was free to focus on Spike. "It's not healthy, what you're doing."

"What am I doing, ma?" Spike asked wearily.

She shook her head. "Nothing, that's what. All you do is go to work, come home, sleep, and go to work again. Your father and I are worried."

Spike involuntarily clenched his fists. He didn't want to bring his father into this, because lately every conversation between them always turned into an argument about his future at the SRU. "There's nothing to worry about," he said. "The social calendar's just been kind of empty, that's all. But it's fine. I've been catching up on my reading."

His mother looked at him shrewdly. "You still miss"—Spike's breath caught in his throat, and he braced himself for the inevitable mention of Lou—"Keira, don't you."

The knot in his chest eased ever so slightly, though he lingered in considerable discomfort as he answered, "Ma, I see her at work every day. There's nothing to miss."

But he did miss her. He missed her eyes sparkling with laughter, the way she completely owned her sexuality, even her ridiculous obsession with terrible eighties movies. And while he got to interact with her at work, it wasn't the same as how it had been before.

"Well." His mother's lips pursed. "If she doesn't think you're good enough for her, then she's an idiot and you're better off without her."

It took a moment for Spike to process what he was hearing, and another for him to believe it; by then, his face was remarkably hot. "We weren't—we never—"

"Oh, Mikey. I wasn't born yesterday. I know the two of you weren't playing video games down there."

And as much as he probably should have seen this coming, Spike was utterly unprepared for his mother's declaration. "You… You knew? The entire time?" he asked, feeling distinctly embarrassed.

"The entire time," she confirmed, rolling her eyes when he turned an even deeper shade of red. "I'm your mother. I notice these things. I could always tell you liked her as more than a friend. But it's her loss if she can't see what a wonderful man you are."

"No, I'm the one who screwed it up." He'd added that night to a list of mistakes he would never forget, a hook on which he would remain for the rest of his life—it was all he knew how to do, when Keira refused to let him take the blame he knew he deserved. "Besides, Will's really good to her. She's happier than she's been in a long time."

His mother made a show of harrumphing, but her tone was softer when she asked, "So where does that leave you?"

"I don't know," Spike admitted—but he wasn't just referring to his relationship status. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been excited about any aspect of his life, or even the last time he'd had something to look forward to. "I'll figure it out."

His mother smiled. "I know you will. You've always landed on your feet. You're smart, sensitive, and handsome—you'll have girls knocking at this door in no time."

And although, as his mother, she was just shy of contractually obligated to make him feel better, Spike started smiling back. "Yeah, we'll see."

"We will," she agreed. "Now, why don't you help me set the table?"

As he joined his mother in the dinner preparations, he found himself recalling her optimism: _You've always landed on your feet._ And maybe there was something to that, he thought, setting a place for his father. The past six months had sent him to hell and back, but in just a few weeks it would be a new year. And even though he couldn't ring it in with Lou or Keira, he still had a lot to be grateful for: his family, his job, and his health. Many people weren't so lucky.

His mother glanced at him and beamed, as if she'd already noticed the change in his mood. And while he didn't know if it was permanent, or just a temporary uplift before he fell back into the painful memories, he did know that the least he could do was try to make things easier for himself. Go out once in a while, cultivate his friendships with other teammates, find new ways to keep busy.

As if on cue, his phone vibrated, and a message from Sam appeared on the screen: _hey. scored some tickets to the maple leafs tomorrow. it'll probably suck but the seats r good. u in?_

Spike hesitated, then squared his shoulders and sent a response: _Throw in some overpriced beers and we've got ourselves a plan._

There, simple. Just like that, he had something to mildly anticipate. Sam wasn't Lou; but he was uncomplicated, and the conversation would be light and easy. They would bond over the Leafs sucking, chat about work, and maybe go out for some good drinks later. Spike still desperately missed his best friend, and he wasn't really over Keira, but it was a start. He could worry about getting back in the dating game later.

Although, come to think of it—didn't Sam have some sisters? Maybe one of them was single…

_Now, that's just getting ahead of yourself,_ Spike thought; and, with a small grin, he returned to setting the table.

**The End**

* * *

><p>I just wanted to say a huge thank-you to everyone who's followed me on this adventure, even when my posting schedule was sometimes nonexistent. This has been an amazing experience, and I've loved hearing from all of you as you reacted to the various twists and turns of Keira's story. I hope you enjoyed its conclusion! Thank you again for being such awesome readers.<p>

Fun fact: "Breathe" comes from the Taylor Swift song. Yup. I was originally going to have a few lines from it at the beginning of each chapter, but then I completely forgot when I started posting and I think it's probably for the better. ;)

**And now for the big news...** I mentioned last week that I wrote a Spike/Keira prequel to this story. It's now up! You can find it through my profile page; it's called "Beginnings." Happy reading!

**Also,** before you run off (or away), I created some ebook versions of Breathe and Beginnings, because I know a lot of people like to read fic on their ereaders. The links for those, along with a ficmix I uploaded to 8tracks, can also be found through my author profile - just look at my bio, and you'll be directed to the right place.

See you around...


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